


uh...mEoW?

by 3musketears



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Cat Ears, Fluff, M/M, angst if you squint a whole lot, cat boy akechi, does turning into a cat boy count as body horror? you decide I guess, i googled a bunch of things about cats and this is the gross hairball i hacked out, kind of crack treated seriously, lengthy descriptions of a gradual cat boy transformation, no beta we die like okumura, oh the rest of the pt pop up, only spoils Kasumi's code name
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-01
Updated: 2020-08-05
Packaged: 2021-02-28 19:41:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 37,762
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23422594
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/3musketears/pseuds/3musketears
Summary: “Do you think it will resemble the one on my costume when it is complete or will it be sleek and slender?” Fox asked.“I hope it’s fluffy,” Joker commented innocently.That’s when Skull finally cracked. “How the shit is the tail sprouting actual cat fur and growing out of Akechi Goro’s ass right in front of usnotthe craziest shit you’ve ever seen?” he exclaimed.Or: Akira’s dreams come true and Akechi’s control over his life goes from minimal to nonexistent. Oh and he turns into a cat boy.The only Royal spoiler is the mention of Kasumi's code name, so if you don't want to know it then don't read
Relationships: Akechi Goro/Amamiya Ren, Akechi Goro/Kurusu Akira, Akechi Goro/Persona 5 Protagonist
Comments: 58
Kudos: 398





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> umm this is my first fic and it's pretty dumb. don't ask me where in the continuity this would take place because i honestly couldn't tell you haha. happy april fools and royal day 2 in the west!
> 
> edit: upon further examination I've concluded that this was how I chose to cope with watching cats (2019) in its entirety

“Watch out guys,” Oracle warned. The screens in her persona indicated an unfamiliar reading. Her sensors couldn't even detect an element or known status ailment. “This shadow is charging up an attack that Al Azif hasn't seen before. We don't know what it’ll do. Keep your guard up. Remember, it's got a magic wall, so unless you can break it, only use physical attacks and your guns.”

From her vantage point she could see her teammates change position corresponding to Joker’s orders. Noir assumed position on the back lines, readying her grenade launcher to finish things off once someone else got a major hit in. Panther’s whip allowed her to do solid physical damage without getting too close, so she attacked with an array of quick lashes. The shadow seemed to completely ignore her and Mona, which gave them several good openings. On the other hand, Joker and Queen’s weapons required very close range combat, putting them right on the front lines. Ever the showoff, Joker made a great spectacle of beating the living shit out of it. His grappling hook snagged something on the ceiling and he flew over its head, doing a backflip before shooting repeatedly. Oracle picked up the monster groaning in pain and Queen sighing very loudly. Joker was going to get himself killed just because he wanted to look cool. 

To his credit, he pulled this stunt every time, and he'd gotten very good at it. If it didn't fail in April, why would it in January? 

His little dance pissed the shadow off big time, and that charged attack Oracle sensed earlier came hurtling at him. Before Oracle could yell for him to move, she saw Crow shove him out of the way, taking the full force of the hit. It connected with his back and sent him flying across the room…but he somehow landed on his feet and just kept going as if nothing happened. Curious. 

While he yelled at the shadow for being an “insolent fucker,” Oracle pulled up the readings for the whole team. Besides a justifiably elevated heart rate, everything seemed normal. He still cackled like a deranged psychopath while tearing the shadow to shreds. Typical Crow 2.0 behavior. 

Oracle swiped that screen aside and looked back at the scene unfurling below her. Someone broke the magic wall, Skull zapped it a few times, Violet cut off a limb with her rapier, and Noir delivered the final explosive blow, giggling gleefully all the way. The sounds of the thieves panting and cheering were her cue to come down. 

“Dude,” Skull began, running up to Joker, “that thing you did? That was effing awesome.”

Joker laughed sheepishly and brushed it off, a little embarrassed by his own flamboyance. And the fact that Crow had to save him from it. He glanced over at the older boy. He stood separate from the rest of his group with his arms crossed over his chest. The mask made his facial expressions even harder to interpret than usual, but Akira didn't miss the corners of his mouth turning up when Violet bounded over to him with a bottle of water. She started chatting excitedly, likely admiring how unaffected he was by that enemy blast. After about a minute he gave in and started trying to make conversation, which made her smile widen. Her sweet earnestness made Joker smile too. She remained unwavering in the face of Crow’s fumbling awkwardness and laughed at his alarmingly morbid bad jokes. However, as Joker continued to observe their wholesome interaction, something seemed off. 

“Skull,” Joker said, “come closer.” His best friend gave him a quizzical look but leaned in. Joker whispered in his ear, “Look at Crow’s ass.”

“What?” Skull replied incredulously, “Um. No. _Gross_.” He mimed gagging, earning an inquisitive stare from Queen. He paid her no mind. “Why would I ever want to do that?”

“Shhh just do it, trust me. I wanna make sure I'm not imagining things.” Skull grumbled about the _effing traitor_ and his _stupid gay ass_ but obliged regardless. “Is it just me, or is it… _mutating_ ,” Joker said, saying that last word like it was forbidden.

Skull squinted. Crow’s ratty cape was just short enough that both boys could see the odd protrusion sticking out through skin tight material at the base of his spine. The longer they starred, the longer it growed. “Holy _fuck_ ,” Skull muttered. His eyes were nearly bulging out of his head. “It's way too pointy to be a third ass cheek…Did that spell make him grow another dick right above his crack? Or did it move his actual dick to the other side of his body?” To their absolute horror it _kept getting even longer_. “Scratch that second theory, I refuse to believe pretty boy is _that_ big.”

Just when things couldn’t get stranger, the protrusion tore through the striped fabric of Crow’s metaverse costume and perked upwards, still increasing in length before their very eyes. Skull shoved his fist into his mouth to keep from screaming. Joker’s jaw just went completely slack. The odd appendage was all bare pale skin upon its initial escape from booty-hugging pants prison, but as it neared its full length, little brown... _hairs(?)_ started to sprout from the bottom. In large quantities too.

Sure, being turned into mice was its own terrifying and disarming experience. But that was instantaneous, one second the thieves were human and the next their enemies seemed a whole lot taller. The fact that this transition was gradual to the point where they could watch things _grow out of his body that were not supposed to be there_ made it far more off putting. 

Skull saw Fox walking by in his peripheral vision and grabbed him by the shoulder. “Tell me this isn’t the weirdest shit you’ve ever seen,” the blonde challenged, directing his taller friend to look at the scene unfurling in front of them. 

Fox held up his hands, framing his line of vision with his fingers. He eyed it curiously, then shook his head. “While intriguing, I must say I have seen stranger occurrences, especially here. Do you recall that foul phallic monster we encountered?”

“Okay yeah that was nasty but _really_?” Skull was struggling to keep his voice down now, “We didn’t have to watch that thing _grow_.” The hairs had climbed about a quarter of the thing’s length and Crow still was completely oblivious that something was bursting out of his skin. Violet giggled at some horrible pun he made.

“Do you think it will resemble the one on my costume when it is complete or will it be sleek and slender?” Fox asked.

“I hope it’s fluffy,” Joker commented innocently.

That’s when Skull finally cracked. “How the shit is the tail sprouting actual cat fur and growing out of Akechi Goro’s ass right in front of us _not_ the craziest shit you’ve ever seen?” he exclaimed. 

His voice rippled through Mementos, each wave making another thief turn to face him. Crow was the first to turn around, the movement revealing the cursed thing to Violet, who yelped loudly. At her scream the tail went from lazily pointing upward to going completely rigid, present fur standing erect. Crow hesitantly moved one gloved hand to his back. All of the color drained from his face when he wrapped his clawed fingers around it. He grabbed it and pulled it in front of himself, watching hundreds of thousands of hair follicles pop up and grow unnaturally fast with morbid fascination.

“Oh my god,” Oracle said in disbelief, “his reading is becoming more like Mona’s by the second. And the resemblance is growing exponentially.”

“Cats can have up to three coats of fur,” Mona commented sagely, “and we grow an undercoat in winter too.” The first coat had climbed half way up the tail already. When Crow craned his head to look at his back, he could see the very beginnings of a second layer of longer fur starting to shoot up from his tail bone. He squeezed the tail and was alarmed to feel sensation in the alien appendage. In fact, it was extremely sensitive, especially at the base. He rubbed the still-bald rounded tip with his other hand, even daring to scratch it a little with his sharp gloves upon realizing that _it felt really good_. 

He drew his serrated sword and held it out for someone to take. “Someone cut it off.”

They all stared at him like he’d started growing yet another extra hairy appendage. Crow didn’t waver. “It’s my body, and I am not dealing with this shit. One of you, just do it. You don’t even need to screw up your own weapons.”

“Um, Crow-senpai,” Violet began, slowly as if to avoid getting scratched, “isn’t that going to hurt? A lot?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“You know,” Oracle said, lifting up a protesting Mona, “if we took off that helmet right now, we’d probably find two little bumps on your head” she pointed to Mona’s triangular ears “trying to grow into fluffy cat ears. I’ve seen enough anime to know that.”

“Wait, do you think his human ears will shrink away?” Panther asked, “So he wouldn’t have two sets of ears?”

“Usually anime catgirls are designed with hair specifically to cover where the human ears would be,” Oracle explained. Crow did _not_ like the devious grin spread across her face. “Mwehehe this’ll be an experiment. I can finally find out if catgirls have human ears…” Something beeped in her goggle display. “In all seriousness though, there are gonna be ears. Probably pretty soon. I think your bones are changing too. You can’t just chop everything off. That’ll be a gory mess.”

“Then I’ll just cut it myself.”

“How about we leave and see if it goes away in the real world before doing anything drastic like cutting off our body parts!” Queen suggested nervously. She looked to Mona for backup, he nodded and transformed. A nice. Quick. Not drawn out. Immediate transformation.

“Aw but I can’t do scans in the real world without expensive medical crap,” Oracle groaned as they all piled into the Mona bus, “and that stuff probably can’t even register cat boys!”

Crow was immediately annoyed to find that he couldn’t lean back or sit normally without painfully squishing the thicker vertebrae at the base of his increasingly inconvenient new tail. The most he could do was arch forward until his head rested on the seat in front of him and hold it. The final fine hairs of the lower layer completely covered the remaining bare skin. He wondered if trying to count them all would distract him or drive him insane. Especially since he knew it was still growing even more. The second layer had progressed about a third of the length, the longer fur making it excessively poofy. When he ran his hand down he found that the base was still getting thicker. A third layer. The follicles multiplied like a contagious disease.

“Do either of you feel like it’s a little tighter back here than usual?” Noir asked. For some reason Joker found that extremely interesting and shifted to face the back, despite Skull’s complaints about getting elbowed. 

“Now that you mention it, definitely,” Oracle replied. Crow felt their three pairs of eyes boring into him, because of course it was his fault since he had the weird status ailment where he had to put _less_ of himself on the seat.

“Could you uncurl yourself for a moment?” Joker asked, all sweetness and concern. His voice contained a hint of laughter. Crow wondered if Mona often curled into a ball and contemplated his torturous existence as a human-like mind stuck in a fur-covered cat body.

“If you’re about to tell me I have a dozen cat whiskers popping out of my face, I do _not_ want to hear it,” Crow snapped. A red clad finger snuck under his chin and tilted it upwards. He was an alien species under Joker’s cruel microscope. As if his pride hadn’t taken enough shots to the head. Joker lowered his jaw with his thumb. 

Joker squished his cheek and he fought back the urge to bite the cocky bastard. “Nope. Still a smooth baby face. But I think your canines got a lot sharper,” Joker observed, because apparently he paid great attention to people’s mouths, “and longer.” While he had the brunette removed from his fetal position, he took the opportunity to observe any other changes. He noted with pleasure that the second coat of tail fur working its way up was wonderfully fluffy so far. As a cat enthusiast, he couldn’t help looking for hints of other fun kitty traits. “Can I feel your leg?”

“Excuse me?” Crow squawked (how fitting). Noir looked like she wanted to ask why, but wasn’t sure she wanted the answer. Oracle noticed something on her laptop and was now looking at her leader in anticipation.

Joker slowly moved his hand to rest on Crow’s striped thigh, deliberately leaving plenty of room for the other boy to say he did not want to be touched. When he successfully set it down without being scratched, he squeezed just ever so slightly. The cat tail went rigid again, fur standing on end, this time hitting the ceiling of the Mona bus. Crow swore under his breath. “It might just be the stripes making things look big and all, but I think your thighs got a lot thicker.”

Crow choked like he was hacking up a hairball, which wouldn't be too unexpected at this point. “Joker,” he wheezed between coughs, “what the fuck is wrong with you.” Joker anticipated the clump of spit covered hair but it never came. “Are you implying that I’m rapidly gaining weight?”

“I mean, he's not wrong?” Oracle offered. She already had her hands help up in surrender when Crow rounded on her. “It's not fat I swear!” She turned her computer to show the data readings on her screen. “It's muscle. Cats have super muscular thunder thighs so they can do all their superhuman pouncing and stuff. You're just getting a small dose. If your thighs proportionally had as much muscle as an actual cat’s, each one would be a little bigger than your waist. And then I guess your hips would need to be double your waist to accommodate.”

“I suppose that would explain why it's tighter here!” Noir said, trying very hard to lighten the mood. Not as if anyone else was feeling anything but amusement, but the person squeezed into the seat next to her looked like he wanted nothing more than to curl up in a kitty litter box and let it take him. “T-they’re not growing anymore, right?” she asked hesitantly. 

“Nah, the real problem is the ears. That helmet’s gotta go or you're gonna be super uncomfortable really soon,” Oracle advised.

“As if I'm not already incredibly uncomfortable,” Crow mumbled. He begrudgingly took his mask off, still leaving his head encased in the helmet. Never had he needed to take it off, so he'd never looked for a way to do so. At first Joker and Noir poking at it was a nuisance, but then he felt two jolts of pain on the top of his head. He inhaled sharply and their fumbling got more urgent. 

“Oh! I got it!” Noir tore apart the two halves of the neck piece and discarded the whole thing on the floor. The head piece came off easily once that was gone. Just as Oracle predicted, there were two pointed bumps poking out of his thick brown hair. Crow knew they were growing when more of his natural hair fell into his face. Every time he blew the loose strands away, more followed. The fur on them was the same caramel as his hair. Joker reached out to pet him, but the Mona bus hit a bump and his hand hit Noir’s hat. On his second try, the cat ears perked up. Cute light furnishings grew from the inner portion, with darker tufts adorning the tips. Joker found himself completely enamored. Just when he thought things couldn't get any better, Crow started _purring._

The whole car went awkwardly silent, leaving only the low rumbling to fill the void. Crow nuzzled his face against the back of the car seat. “What the hell is that vibrating noise?” Skull asked, “What are you guys even doing back there?”.

“Mona likes ear scratches. So does Crow,” Joker said simply. He continued petting gently, and when he found a spot that made the purring louder he took off his glove to scratch it properly. Of course that made him purr even more. 

Skull turned around to see what was going on for himself. The sight of their scariest team member melting into putty in Joker’s hands shocked him. “Oh my god. Those are _huge_. Are they soft?”

“Like velvet,” Joker replied, noting the curved tip of Crow’s tail. He’d spent enough quality time with Mona to know that meant he was happy. 

“Could I…” he started, but cut himself off with a scoff when he saw the smug look Joker shot his way. “I don’t wanna pet ‘im or anything, you weirdo. Just touch it.”

Joker shrugged, still sly as ever, “That's not a question for me.” Skull looked mortified by the prospect of- god forbid- actually talking to Crow, so Joker acted in his stead. He leaned over more to whisper in Crow’s human ear, “Goroooo.” The brunette nestled against him. “Do you mind if Ryuji feels your pretty little kitty ears?”

At being called a kitty, Crow snapped out of his trace, swatted Joker away, and sat upright (the best he could, anyway). He blinked the lingering trance out of his eyes. “What the hell did you do to me,” he said softly. 

“Ear scratches. And you liked it. A lot actually,” Joker replied easily. His smirk fell into a soft smile. “You started purring.”

Crow wished the leather seat would eat him. Or that the trains in mementos would suddenly start and one would take him out. Or maybe that he’d cough up a massive hairball, just to make them all decide this was gross instead of endearing and stop humiliating him. Of course that would mean repeatedly licking himself first. He hadn't sunk that low…yet. Out of curiosity, he rubbed his tongue against the roof of his mouth. It felt kind of like sandpaper. Fan-freaking-tastic. “Why would you do that?” he hissed, “Don’t encourage this. I don't want to go completely fucking feral and start eating mice.”

“You go feral _every_ time we come here,” Queen said from the driver's seat. And quite frankly, he had no valid argument for that. The fact that Crow’s first instinct was to growl in response only proved her point. 

“I’m pretty sure you're domesticated,” Joker assured him weakly. As if. “And besides…” Joker sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck. “I liked seeing you happy,” he admitted, “I don't get to see your real smile all that often.” Crow’s ears twitched and his cheeks turned pink. He pretended the sound of his heart pulsing rapidly in his ears was just a cat thing.

“OKAY THAT’S ENOUGH,” Mona’s omnipresent voice yelled, “We’re at the exit, so stop flirting in me!” Joker had never seen someone crawl out of the back seat so quickly. 

The world around them shifted. Crow inhaled the cool air and Goro released it. His breath made a thin cloud in the winter air. Usually when they returned from the Metaverse it was almost dark outside, but his predicament had forced them out early enough to see the sun. Kasumi stood next to him, bundled head to toe. Only her eyes were visible between her hat and scarf. She looked at him, and then put her hat on his head. He could only think of one reason why she would do that.

“This is not happening,” he told the puddle at his feet. The puddle showed Kasumi's sympathetic look and a three foot long cat tail swishing around. Rude. He kicked it. So what if his shoes got wet, they probably had weird toe claws sticking through them anyway. 

He reached to shove the damn appendage into his coat and realized his slacks- which were meant to fit snug around his waist- now rested below his hips. His green sweater vest and blazer weren't long enough to compensate, neither garment was meant to cover his ass. Even if he did shove the tail up his shirt, the fuzzy base would still be completely exposed. Furthermore, his pants felt abnormally tight around his legs. Great. His clothes didn’t fit right now. And his back was cold. The reflection staring back at him in the disrupted surface of the puddle was completely red in the face. 

“So, we definitely need to hide him,” Ann concluded. The rest of the teens murmured in agreement. “Cool. Any volunteers? Preferably someone who doesn't have other people at their place?”

“I’ll do it,” Akira offered way too quickly with thinly veiled excitement. He draped his long trench coat over Goro's shoulders. “Once Boss leaves it's just me and Morgana.”

“I appreciate the offer, but I fail to see why I cannot return to my own apartment,” Goro said. The urge to groom himself was becoming louder than any other thought in his head and he did _not_ need there to be witnesses when he succumbed to it.

“If something about your condition changes someone should know about it,” Makoto said, “especially if some of the changes are…biological.” Goro snorted at her insistence on speaking so academically about his ridiculous cat boy transformation. 

“Besides, you need someone to stop you if you start scratching furniture,” Akira added. Several other thieves snickered and Goro’s tail started quickly moving back and forth. Akira noticed. “Sorry. I'll stop if it really bothers you.”

Goro scoffed. “It's not like I have claws anyway…” Futaba mumbled something about him maybe wanting to double check that. Her warning was as good as visual confirmation. He decided that ignorance was bliss. “Fine. It seems I have no choice but to let you toy with me until this _disease_ runs its course.” 

He turned on his heel and started heading for Leblanc. Akira’s coat was slightly big on him, but that made it perfect for hiding invasive extremities. Ironically, it was already covered in black cat fur. The shivers and his chattering teeth were strangely comforting, since he knew they were just a result of his poor circulation and not another symptom. He really needed to order new gloves, with fleece lining inside. As much as he loved his current pair, they were insufficient for the cooler weather. For all he knew he might destroy them in the next twenty four hours anyway. 

Hurried footsteps approached him from behind. Underneath the hat his ears stood upright, pressing against the soft wool. Goro’s head jerked to face the source of the noise. The silhouette was way too far behind for him to have heard its footfalls normally. He suspected the cat ears had something to do with that, it was a wonder that felines could hear so well with all the excessive fur on every goddamn inch of their ears. The figure was perfectly distinguishable merely from its color scheme and the fact that it was running after him, the dark grey blur easily identifiable as Akira. With a sigh he leaned against a nearby lamp post and waited for him to catch up. Kitty brain rot told him he should climb it. He bit his weird prickly tongue and planted his feet on the concrete. 

The dark haired boy slowed his pace as he got closer. “I forgot how aggressive your speed walking is,” Akira said breathlessly, “especially when you’re upset.”

“I’m not upset,” Goro snapped, “I’m just being overloaded with cat hormones that tell me to do idiotic things like climb lamp posts and lick my own ass.”

Akira made that stupid pitying face. _No_ , he corrected himself, it was _sympathy_. He needed to work on recognizing it as such. “And that’s probably very upsetting. Look, we’ll go to Leblanc, get you some coffee, and then you can do whatever weird shit you feel like doing, just to get it out of your system,” Akira proposed, “How does that sound?”

Goro’s glare softened. He sighed tiredly. “If you let me catch any animals in my mouth, I will end you.” Akira beamed at him.

They walked quietly the rest of the way to Leblanc. Akira held the door open for Goro to walk in. The winter cold had brought in more customers than Akira had seen for most of the year. Sojiro was busy listening to one of the patrons at the counter, but acknowledged Akira with a quick smirk. Akira smiled in return and led Goro to the back. After a few minutes Sojiro came over to them.

“Do you kids want something to drink? We're out of hot chocolate until tomorrow, but I could heat up some milk,” Sojiro offered, already reaching into the fridge. 

Akira noticed how intensely Goro stared at the carton and nudged him. He came back to his senses enough to say, “While I do appreciate the offer, I cannot accept. I-I'm lactose intolerant.”

Sojiro kept preparing the milk anyway, only stopping to glance at him skeptically. “You use more cream than all of my customers combined. And Futaba. I can't imagine you being lactose intolerant.” 

Goro opened his mouth to say something else, but any and all words died once the cup was right in front of him. The white liquid emitted a gentle wisp of steam. Its heavenly scent overloaded his senses and pulled him forwards. His ears perked up and his tail tried to escape from its fabric prison to express his excitement. 

Akira noticed that it looked like something was crawling around under his coat, and intentionally stepped behind him to obscure it from the view of any customers. Akira kicked his leg- a little harder because _damn_ he was in deep- and he snapped out of it. He looked up from the mug, smiled as sweetly as he could manage, said, “Excuse me for a moment,” and bolted past Akira into Leblanc’s tiny bathroom. 

The mirror faced him head on. Goro squeezed the pom pom on the top of his borrowed hat and braced himself before slowly removing it. The cat ears were impossible to miss, even from a distance with how obtrusively large and triangular they were. For the most part they were the same color as his natural hair, the exceptions being the dense lighter fur sticking out of the inner ear and the darker hairs standing upright at the tips. The right ear twitched like it was waving to itself in the mirror. 

To get a better feel of the texture, he took off one of his gloves. He _definitely_ didn't remember filing his nails to be so pointy. Or letting them grow so long. Further investigation proved them to be far more dense than usual, and likely capable of fucking up some unsuspecting furniture. The claws could have presented themselves in far more unsettling ways than scarily shaped fingernails, like a strange paw-hand hybrid. Somehow, seeing his human features be warped sounded far more distressing than growing cat features- on a psychological level at least. So for that he was a little grateful.

The ears were incredibly soft on his fingertips. His hand traveled a little lower to the connection between ear and head in search of a transition. As he got closer to the ear the sheer volume of the hair got thicker. Next he felt across the length of the inner furnishings, which stuck out at least four inches past the edges of his ears. He was sure they served some purpose, but could not fathom why they needed to be so long. Perhaps it was for aesthetics? Though he failed to see the appeal of being covered in hair. He turned on the sink and wet his finger in an attempt to make the tip tufts lie a little flatter (if he _had_ to be a cat boy he could at least make everything stop sticking out in every possible direction), but his efforts were in vain. The ears violently flinched away from his wet finger. His mouth curved into a frown. Something thrashed back and forth under the fabric of his borrowed coat.

Akira heard something slam against the door and Goro yelled “ _FUCK_ ” very loudly. He winced. All the customers looked around to find the source of the profanity. An eerie silence fell over the cafe. Akira watched the doorknob slowly turn, hearing every soft click of the locking mechanism. When Goro cheerfully exited the bathroom, his hat was severely askew, his left eye twitched, and one of his gloves was missing. 

“My apologies!” Goro chirped innocently, “I merely stubbed my toe.” His disheveled appearance was not helping the tv act stick. Akira arched an eyebrow, but Goro's pleasant smile stayed cemented in place. 

With how haphazardly the hat was shoved onto his head, Akira could see a sizable clump of white furnishing poking out, and clearly not blending in with the rest of his hair. Shit. “Goro, how about we take our drinks and move upstairs,” he suggested. 

Goro nodded and grabbed one mug. His nose twitched slightly and he tried very hard not to look at it. Akira took the other mug and swiped Morgana's water dish from the ground when Sojiro wasn't looking. 

Once they were in the attic, Akira set the mug and bowl down on the table. Goro draped the borrowed coat and hat around the chair at the desk. When he came to Akira's side he grimaced. “That's incredibly patronizing. Screw you.”

“You literally aren’t gonna be able to lap all of it out of the mug. Your face isn't long enough.”

“What makes you think I can't just drink it like a normal person? I _am_ still human, despite the…” he gestured erratically to the ears and tail, “distracting furry growths.” Akira arched an eyebrow. “I'm not a pet,” he said through gritted teeth.

Akira pointed at his mouth. “Your own tongue betrayed you. When you were staring at the milk it kept poking out to do little flicks.”

To prove that he could, Goro haughtily picked up a mug and pressed it to his lips to take a sip. Instead, his traitorous tongue darted out to lick it. And again. And another time. When he realized what he was doing his entire face turned firetruck red. Akira had the courtesy not to laugh or otherwise rub it in, he silently took the mug from him and poured it into the bowl. He grabbed his own mug and dumped it as well, filing the shiny dish to the top. While the white liquid cascaded into the dish, Goro contemplated the value of his dignity and weighed it against the value of perfectly good warm milk. Later he would sincerely regret the decision his confused brain forced him into.

But in the moment? Without a doubt this was the right choice. The plain fatty milk tasted like a gourmet delicacy. He fell deep into a trance, lapping it rapidly without a care in the world. His position was in no way comfortable for a human being, he stood upright but completely bent over to reach the bowl, which only served to emphasize how low his pants were. 

Akira took the opportunity to feel his tail, partially to keep himself from laughing. As mean as it was, the image of the boy who’d tried to kill him acting like his pet cat was undeniably hilarious. The tail was all thick layered fluffiness, Akira guessed three coats total. There had to be more hairs on one square inch of tail than Goro's entire head…minus the ears. It dangled mere inches above the ground, swishing playfully between Goro's ankles. As much as Akira wanted to play with it, he patiently waited for Goro to finish his milk. The only sounds were the splashing of milk and the _precious_ little mewls the detective let out.

The very last droplets of milk disappeared and Goro stood straight, a bit disoriented. He stared at the empty bowl in disbelief. “I drank all of that. With my tongue?” he asked.

“Yep.” Akira furrowed his eyebrows. “Do you have no memory of it?”

“No, I remember it perfectly,” Goro said. It sounded like he wished he didn't. “How could I forget losing all control of my body, becoming an animal, and _enjoying it_.” His tail tucked between his legs and his ears twitched. “I can't believe I just did that.” 

“I won’t tell Morgana if you don’t,” Akira teased. Goro didn’t respond. Which was concerning, usually he’d at least glare or roll his eyes. Indifference was new. Akira moved over to the bed and motioned for Goro to sit down next to him. The brunette lowered himself onto the futon and Akira got a faceful of tail. He sputtered and tried to spit the fur out of his mouth, which made Goro chuckle a little. He laughed more when Akira made a big show of plucking out a hair and eying it with exaggerated disgust. Having someone else take on the role of comedic punching bag for once made him feel a bit better.

Temptation once again led Akira’s fingers to Goro’s hair. When he made contact Goro flinched. Okay, maybe he should’ve asked first. He moved his hand to give him space, but Goro whimpered and leaned back into the touch. 

“Scratch the ears,” Goro commanded tersely, leaving no room for negotiation, but with a hint of desperation.

Akira of course wanted to, but Goro’s body language made him hesitant. “Are you sure? I thought you didn’t want me to encourage cat behavior. And you’re trembling.”

“It's too late for that.” His tongue darted out to lick a little milk off of his face. Akira wished he could've done that himself. “Just do it.” 

“As you wish, my prince,” Akira replied sweetly. The response was immediate, Goro nestled up next to him rubbed his cheek against his shoulder. His purring vibrated, the sensation traveling through Akira’s arm and dancing with the butterflies in his stomach. Charmingly, Goro’s hands (Akira almost stopped petting him because holy _shit_ those were some scary fingernails) kneaded the bed sheets, Akira wondered if there'd be any sheet left on the bed by the time they stopped. Especially since Goro showed no signs of wanting him to anytime soon. 

“I know another spot that you might like,” Akira offered. Goro’s ears stood up, attentive and alert. “But you'll need to lie on your stomach.”

Goro mewled quietly and- to Akira's surprise- sprawled right across Akira's lap. So being a cat made him bolder and touchier than usual. _Cute_. Akira's eyes traveled down his back to find the base of his spine. With his green sweater vest pushed up and his pants forced a little lower down, his entire midriff was exposed. Definitely the most of his skin Akira had ever seen. It was akin to seeing a Victorian woman’s exposed collarbone. Akira lightly dragged his fingers down his bare back, feeling through near-invisible peach fuzz that got darker as he progressed, then getting coarser and denser until he felt the velvety beginnings of the tail. The actual seam between the appendage and his back was curious. It was as if someone hand placed a tube on the tailbone, but then the tube had been merged with the skin that touched its edges. Akira felt the area directly above his tail and started scratching. 

Akira knew exactly how actual cats reacted to this, but it still didn't prepare him for Goro arching his back and thrusting his hips into the air. Right in front of Akira’s face. He really hoped no one stumbled into the attic while they were like this, it looked obscene on a human being. And of course he liked it, he was a gay with a probably-ill-advised crush, but he dared not cross the line between appeasing Goro’s cat brain and taking advantage of Goro’s human brain. Akira decided he wasn't going to survive this when Goro dreamily murmured, “That feels absolutely divine, Akira.” He meowed. “Scratch _harder_.”

His nails dug in and _how the fuck was his back doing that_ Goro wiggled his butt in the air, which was, again, a normal cat thing, but on Goro’s body it was almost goading Akira to do something. As if he could squeeze that ass more than his pants already did. He made a mental note to wear loose pants next time they went into the Metaverse, just in case he was the one with the cat ears and the meatier thighs one day. Goro didn't even need it, he traveled literally everywhere by bike so of course his legs were great. 

He must've hit some kind of sweet spot because Goro’s tail shot up instantly and quivered in the air, sending all the fur it had shed raining down on them. Akira noted with some amusement that Goro would still be finding it in his sweater for the next month. Morgana was a whole cat worth of shedding, but Goro’s tail alone was longer than Morgana's body and tail combined. Fluffier too. Even after this status ailment disappeared they would both be finding remnants of it everywhere. Akira wondered what would happen when it was over, would he gradually watch the perky ears shrink back into Goro's head and leave no trace behind, or would it all mercifully disappear at once? If the former option, would all that fur shed? Maybe he should restock his lint rollers. 

Akira ran his other hand up the length of the tail. Goro seemed to like that, if the increased volume of his purring and continued movement of his rear was any indication, so he kept stroking up and down. The fluffy appendage wrapped itself loosely around his arm and pulled it down to the base. Akira took the hint and scratched with both hands. Apparently he wasn't a very fast learner, since Goro’s butt jerked upwards again and hit him squarely in the face. 

Goro's upper body froze and then compressed itself like a slinky until he was sitting on his knees next to Akira. “ _Fuck_ ,” he spat. His ears folded in on themselves. “M-my apologies, I did not intend for that to happen. I tried to control it because it felt really nice but I couldn't and I didn't want you to stop and you didn't say anything so I assumed you were okay with it and let myself indulge for just a bit but then a bit became a lot because I can’t _do_ anything like this normally whenever I consider it I freeze up-”

“ _Goro._ ” Akira put a hand on his shoulder and sure enough he went tense. “You’re working yourself up. I’m fine, and I probably should’ve expected it. It didn’t really hurt much, maybe I’ve got some butt hair up my nose but that’s all.”

Goro’s shoulders relaxed and he giggled. “That’s disgusting,” he said, but there was no venom in it. 

“Not when it’s you,” Akira automatically replied. As soon as the poor flirting attempt left his mouth he realized how weird that was. Welp, time to change the subject. He took a pillow from his bed and placed it on his lap. “Lie down. I’m not done pampering you”

“I can’t. This damned tail makes it painful.”

Akira grabbed two more pillows. “Try elevating it.” Goro tugged his pants up as much as the tail allowed him to, then shifted so that his head fell into Akira’s lap. He arched his back upwards, slid the two pillows underneath it, and relaxed. “Does that work?” Akira asked. Goro nodded. The tail lazily lay on the attic floor.

With one hand he pushed Goro’s bangs out of his face. His other hand snuck under the sweater vest and button up to feel his stomach. Goro shivered under the touch. Without Akira needing to ask he softly said, “I’m fine.” 

Kawakami had taught him a thing or two about massages as pay back for helping her out. Mostly they went over how to give a good back massage, but they touched upon every conceivable part of the human body throughout their little lessons. Akira meant to utilize it for any strain caused by Metaverse adventures, but the opportunity had yet to arise. Now, Akira could put those skills to use in a very solid belly rub.

“This one works on normal humans too,” Akira commented cheekily. He pushed Goro’s shirt up to rub circles into his abdomen. Goro’s eyes fluttered closed and the lingering tension left his body with the release of breath. Thin jagged scars marked the pale skin. Akira gently rubbed his thumb over them. For the most part Goro just hummed quietly like a person every once in a while, but if Akira pressed a little harder the vibrations started up again. Then he got an idea.

“How ticklish are you?”

“Hmm?”

He didn’t have a chance to respond before Akira maniacally grinned and mercilessly tickled his belly. Goro squeaked and burst into a fit of uncontrollable laughter. It grew louder as Akira attacked him from both sides, making him roll back and forth. The sound was not unlike that of wind chimes and bird songs, signs of spring mornings in the wintry afternoon. Perhaps the difference lied in its rarity; spring had its own season but such jubilation in such a troubled soul was like a holiday. Akira sandwiched his hand between the pillow and Goro’s head to go for the nape of his neck, which birthed a whole different animal. He drew his legs into his chest in a feeble attempt to protect himself, but nothing could stop the infectious giggles- with some little cat noises mixed in for variety- leaving his mouth. Akira glanced at the stairs and hoped Sojiro wouldn’t hear the noise and check on them, but when he looked back down to see Goro’s smiling face beaming up at him, he decided it didn’t matter how loud it got. 

So the next logical step was for him to rip Goro’s shoes off and go for the universal weak spot. His socks were argyle of course, and seemed to go up far past his ankle. Very in character. From just looking, Akira could guess that his toes nails had also become more like cat claws, just not to the same extent as his fingernails. Since Goro had conveniently curled himself into a ball, Akira could easily double team the back of his neck and the bottoms of his feet at the same time. Goro’s response was squirming and a whole symphony of ungentleman-like noises: high pitched giggling, squealing, mewling, an alternate version of the infamous Black Mask cackle, snorting, and a particularly strange rapid-fire cat noise that could only be dictated as “mewmowmowmowmow.”

Akira relented when Goro started swatting at his arm, mostly in fear of getting mauled by those scary claws. “Akira-” he interrupted himself with a very unrefined snort, “I-I think that’s enough…” his laugh when he trailed off was more subdued, more akin to the few genuine chuckles Akira had startled out of him before he “joined” the team. He wiped tears from his eyes. Akira drank in the sight of him, all tousled hair and rosy cheeks. His stomach rose and fell while he pulled himself back together. The setting sun just outside the window cast him in its vibrant hues, rich reds and regal violets. 

“You’re so beautiful,” Akira declared, voice barely above a whisper to preserve this honest truth as the intimate secret that it was.

Goro looked away. “You can’t possibly mean that.”

“Is that a challenge?” Akira asked, “I accept. What do I need to do to prove that I think you’re beautiful?”

“For starters, I suggest you try again later when I look less like a freak,” he suggested sardonically. 

Akira frowned. “Do you really think I care? My two favorite things are cats and _you_. If anything I think it’s adorable. How could I see you, smiling and not caring about keeping up some facade for once, and _not_ fall in love all over again?”

Goro’s eyes widened. He gazed up at Akira with confusion and cautious hope. He echoed “Fall in…?” his breath hitched at the last word.

“We could go to the Metaverse tomorrow, and you could end up with giant wings, horns, and eight more tails, and I would still think you were the prettiest boy in all of Japan,” Akira said.

“That’s only because I wouldn’t be able to wear any clothes, idiot,” Goro protested, but his smile gave him away.

“False. You could still wear shoes and socks. And leg warmers.”

“Legally that is still very much nudity.”

“Well whatever. My point is, my feelings wouldn’t change. You’ve done far worse to me than look a little weird and I’m still here.”

Goro bit his lip- which revealed his cat fangs- and considered his words. “When I said you could toy with me earlier, I really hope you didn’t take me seriously.”

“With your cat ears wiggling around under your hat? I could never take you seriously,” Akira promised, “but I _can_ take your heart.”

“That’s the worst pun I’ve ever-” Goro got cut off by Akira leaning down to press his lips against his. Nimble fingers carded through his hair, easing out any tangles they happened upon. Akira’s lips were soft and he smelled of freshly brewed coffee. Goro couldn’t help but think _home_. The kiss was gentle and shy, fitting for two traumatized teenagers trying to figure things out. Akira broke apart and gazed down at him, gauging for some kind of reaction. 

Goro responded by pulling his head down and kissing him back. There was a desperation to the way the detective grasped his shoulders and fumbled through their embrace. Akira knew he’d definitely never kissed anyone before. What an odd situation to be in during a first kiss. Akira felt the curved papille of his cat tongue and tasted lingering milk. He decided that while it wasn’t his own first kiss, it was for certain the strangest. 

They stopped when they ran out of air, but their faces still hovered close together. They could feel each other’s hot breath filling the small space. Goro broke the silence. “You are very fortunate that I haven’t tried to groom myself yet,” he whispered in a lower voice.

Akira shrugged. “Eh. I’d probably still kiss you anyway.” He leaned in to prove it


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Goro does cat things and looks for answers while Akira questions what being kinda turned on by it says about him as a person.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh geez, this went through so many rewrites. At this point, I'm going "take it so I don't have to think about it anymore!"  
> Jose makes an appearance, no spoilers aside from his general role in throughout the whole game.  
> Enjoy your daily dose of bizarreness!

“Hey, kid?” Sojiro’s voice hollered from downstairs. Goro scrambled off of Akira and curled into a compact ball behind him. Unfortunately for him, his hiding spot didn’t give him nearly enough coverage. The very parts he wanted to hide most- the twin peaks atop his head and the overgrown semi-sentient furry vine tethered to the small of his back- were the most visible. He grabbed Akira’s comforter and threw it over himself. Akira winced at the sound of tearing fabric. The cat claws claimed their first casualty. It was inevitable, really, but disheartening nonetheless.

Akira patted the little lump of hidden boyfriend ( _Boyfriend_. About time) and got up. “Yeah?” he yelled back as he approached the stairs.

“I’ve got dinner for you two down here,” Sojiro replied. The familiar scent of signature curry wafted into the attic. Akira spared one last glance at his bed before descending the staircase. 

Two steaming hot plates sat at the counter side by side. Memories of tears, red cheeks, strained laughter, and special takoyaki came to mind, and Akira wondered if/how Goro's taste buds had been altered by his state. At the very least he could probably eat the rice. 

“Thank you,” Akira said, carefully balancing both plates, “it looks delicious, as always.”

Sojiro offered him a wry half-smile, “No problem. What’s up with the other kid? He didn’t look like himself when you two walked in here. Whatever he was saying about lactose intolerance was weird too.”

_Well you see, Boss, while we were doing Phantom Thieves things, Goro got turned into a cat-human hybrid. Since then he’s thrust his ass in my face, started meowing regularly, torn open my comforter with his claws, and drunk 20 oz of milk by lapping it up with his tongue. Which is barbed now. I know because I kissed him._ Akira settled for “I think he’s having a reaction to something.” 

It wasn’t a complete lie, all of this bizarreness did come from a shadow’s spell. Save the kissing part. “Hm. Maybe it’s got something to do with whatever all that hair is on your shirt,” Sojiro suggested, “It doesn’t look like it’s from your cat.” Akira looked down and sure enough, an abundance of light fur visibly clung to his black turtleneck. “Try changing your shirt, and lend him something while you’re at it, it's probably all over him too.”

“All over” didn’t even cover it. Try “biologically attached to” or “growing out of.” Akira weakly nodded and ascended with curry in tow. He set both plates down on the table where the mugs and Morgana’s dish from earlier still lay. Which begged the question: would a refill be cruelty or generosity? And would he eat food like a human or not?

Goro’s head popped out from under the comforter. His brow furrowed and his nose twitched when he sniffed at the air. The scent reached his nose, and Akira nearly melted at his excited meowing. Despite the feline reaction, Akira elected to give him the benefit of the doubt and set it up like they would be eating seated at the couch, if only for the sake of Goro’s dwindling dignity. The brunette came to his side, sitting on the edge of the seat so as to not crush the base of his tail. Since Akira was reclining, he could see the back of his boyfriend’s head. He couldn’t help but giggle.

The detective’s ears perked up and swiveled to face him before the rest of his head did. “What are you laughing at me for now?” he asked, “I haven’t even done anything yet!” His face went white. “Is something sprouting out of my back?”

“Oh yeah. It's reaaaaally hairy back here.”

“ _What._ ”

“Uh huh. A whole jungle. Your entire back is completely covered in fur. I can't see any skin. Just a walking carpet. There's so much that it's growing out of your shirt.” At Goro's bulging eyes he couldn't help but laugh. The brunette’s hands flew to reach under his shirt but Akira stopped them and rubbed the tension out of his bony knuckles. “I'm just messing with you.”

Goro looked at him like something smeared on the bottom of his shoe. “Hm. Not funny.” Despite his stony glare, his voice wavered. “Is there something though?”

Akira shook his head. “No, no. It’s just…” his hand went up to Goro’s hair, “you grew little tufties behind your ears.” Akira took the feathery clumps of lighter fur between his fingers and ran down their length. “They’re not too long, just two cute little bursts on the sides of your head.”

Goro scoffed and his ears flattened against his head. “For now. They’ll probably end up down to my shoulders if this other shit is any indication. I can't believe this shit isn't even done growing,” he grumbled. He side-eyed the curry. “By any chance do you have a hair tie? I don’t want to get food in my hair if I, um...” Akira didn’t force him to finish that sentence.

After a bit of rummaging through his desk, Akira found one- likely belonging to Ann or Futaba- and some bobby pins from his earlier lock picks. He slid behind Goro so that the other boy sat between his legs. The tail had gone limp, and now rested pooled in his lap. He gathered all that soft hair, smoothed it with his fingers, and tied it up. With the bobby pins, he gathered up any stray hairs and cat ear tufts and pinned them back. Akira leaned back to admire his handiwork and noticed he’d never seen the back of Goro’s neck before. The collar of his shirt still covered a lot, but Akira could see the little tendrils where his hair began.

He couldn’t resist, he pressed a kiss to the nape of Goro’s neck. Goro squeaked and his tail went erect. “You’re awfully touchy today,” he said in a strained voice.

“And you’re awfully sensitive,” Akira replied. A second kiss sent a shiver down Goro’s spine and into his tail.

His third eye didn’t miss Goro’s shoulders caving in and him closing the gap between his legs. “Don’t get any ideas,” his rival warned. Welp. Too late. “I’m sure it’s just some cat thing.”

“Actually it’s the opposite, that’s why cats pick up their kittens by the scruff of the neck, they don’t feel much there.”

“...oh,” he said softly. He bit his lip, the action revealing his cat fangs. “Then I suppose you may be correct.”

Akira pulled him back so that his head rested on the thief’s shoulder. Goro nestled his face into his neck. “Is this comfortable?” Akira asked.

“Yes,” Goro replied. “As long as we maintain ample distance between this protruding nuisance-” he picked up his tail and glared at it, which was extremely childish so of course Akira thought it was cute “-and your- um... _you_ , we should be alright.” The snicker at Goro’s refusal to vocally acknowledge male anatomy died in Akira’s mouth when Goro looked at him with those big doe eyes. “Thank you, my back was starting to hurt a little. It’s rather frustrating that I can’t just lean back normally.”

“I’m sure.” Akira pulled Goro’s bangs back. “I’ll just get your bangs out of your face, then we’ll eat Boss’s curry.” It took more bobby pins than he thought it would, and it looked a little silly, but he successfully pinned them back. He could actually see Goro’s eyes for once. It made him smile. “There, now I won’t have to smuggle you into the bathhouse.”

“I’m sure I’d send any unfortunate souls present into cardiac arrest.”

Before shifting to move next to him, Akira kissed Goro’s exposed forehead, which made the tips of his human ears turn pink. He pulled the rickety table closer to the couch and started eating. The curry wasn’t hot anymore, but it was still warm and just as delicious. Goro grabbed the spoon like he was taking up a weapon to go to war with cat hormones. It surprised Akira when he went for the chunks of meat covered in spicy curry instead of the milder rice. He scooped up a few and intentionally scooted back as far away from the plate as the wide base of his tail would allow. His other hand hovered underneath the spoon as he slowly moved it towards himself. He opened his mouth to take a bite, but just as the spoon passed his lips, his tongue darted out and scraped up a hunk of chicken. Goro screamed with his mouth shut.

“I can just look away if you’re embarrassed,” Akira offered. Goro’s entire face flushed redder by the second.

“No. I’m using the fucking spoon,” he seethed. He quickly shoved another spoonful of chicken down to leave no time for his body to do weird cat things. Behind sealed lips, weird cat things happened anyway. As he chewed his face got hotter and his eyes started watering. He let out a high pitched whine like a kettle whistling, which turned into a feline yowl when his mouth opened.

Akira stopped eating to feel Goro’s forehead and the beads of sweat forming at his hairline. “You need some milk. I’ll be right back.” 

He barreled down the stairs and made a beeline for the fridge. One of the haughtier regulars sat in the booth closest to the stairs, engrossed in a document on his computer. Sojiro admonished him for being so disruptive while the cafe was still open. Akira yanked the fridge open, getting a face full of frigid air. If they were closed, he would’ve tried shoving Goro’s head in it. He grabbed the whole carton of milk, yelled an apology, and flew back up to the attic just as quickly as he’d come down.

The spoon still floated towards Goro’s open mouth, even as equally fat drops of sweat and tears ran down his face. Akira looked down at the pair of plates and found that nearly all of the chicken had been plucked from his dinner too. With a sigh, he unscrewed the cap, tossed it aside, and poured the milk into Morgana’s dish. Goro’s spoon dropped with a loud clink. His pupils blew wide and he leaned over to lick at it even while Akira was still pouring. It was so fast, Akira almost didn’t stop in time to keep himself from dumping it in his hair. When he’d done it earlier it was rapid but neat, now the desperation added by the spicy chicken had rendered him a complete disaster. The cool liquid sloshed up the sides, splashing over in waves when it crashed into the edge of the bowl. 

Akira cursed his panic for making him throw the cap. He got down on all fours and scanned under all his dusty furniture. If only Phantom Thief work left him with more time to clean. With his phone flashlight, he spotted it underneath his shelves. His arm was just long enough for him to grab it. After brushing off his jeans he glanced towards the couch. Goro had finished up his drink. His face wasn’t nearly as red and he’d stopped crying, but he still panted as he gazed wistfully at his reflection in the bottom of the empty bowl. With just a healthy dose of reluctance, Akira poured more. This time he didn’t bother to stop when his boyfriend stuck his head in it. Goro would just stare back up at him begging for another refill with those big eyes anyway. If he got milk in his hair, Akira couldn't be held responsible.

When he did stop, Goro glowered at him under thick eyelashes, still lapping milk all the while. “I have to leave some for the restaurant,” Akira explained. He couldn’t tell if Goro deliberately stuck his tongue out at him or not.

His curry- now tragically chicken-less- had cooled, but it still tasted good so Akira finished it off. “You know,” Akira said, “it’s just not the same without any meat.” Goro shot him another dirty look but otherwise ignored him. It raised the question of how cognizant Goro was when these things happened. The combination of the regular dose of tsundere mannerisms and the pride murdering impulses made it hard to figure out.

The plate was clear before Goro was done, so Akira went rummaging through his clothes. Among his sweatpants lay a pair of black booty shorts. Ann bought them as a gag gift for him awhile back. It was tempting, but he ultimately decided against it. He picked out a loose-fitting white graphic tee and simple black lounge pants for Goro. 

He meant to toss them onto the couch, but threw too far and ended up hitting Goro in the side. The brunette’s face fell right into the bowl. Akira winced when he slowly lifted his head up, milk dripping from his chin and nose. “At least your hair was pulled back?” Akira offered, already taking off his shirt to use it as a towel.

Either Goro’s weird cat trance hadn't entirely disappeared yet or his yearning had overwhelmed his sharpness because he was very openly staring at Akira. “You've seen me naked. Bathhouse,” Akira reminded him.

Goro took his shirt and wiped himself off. The whole time his eyes never left Akira's torso. “I have,” he echoed. “And you're right, I'm very glad we had the foresight to tie my hair up.” He examined the ball of fabric that had caused this little incident. “What are these for?”

“Sojiro asked why you were acting weird, so I told him you were having an allergic reaction to something. He saw all the fur on my turtleneck and assumed that was the cause, so he said we should both change,” Akira explained. He put his now-damp shirt back on. “It's getting kind of late too. We should sleep soon, especially if we have any intention of going back to Mementos tomorrow. I can use the bathroom downstairs if that'd make you more comfortable. I need to bring the dishes and milk downstairs anyway.”

“Ok. Sounds good.”

He sandwiched the cat dish in between the two plates in a flimsy attempt to hide it, stacked the mugs on top, and headed for the stairs, holding the milk and pajamas to his chest. Just before starting his descent, he remembered something. “Oh yeah, try not to scream too loud if you have extra nipples,” Akira advised. “Could be just two more, I think the average number is eight.”

Goro’s hysterical screech of “ _EIGHT?!_ ” was loud and clear even over Akira’s laughter as he carefully made his way to the cafe.

Luckily, Sojiro was busy talking with the last customer, so the glance he spared Akira wasn’t long enough for him to find anything suspicious about him. First, he placed all the dishes in the sink, letting the soapy water consume the evidence of his folly. Now he just looked like a responsible cat owner instead of...well he didn’t want to think about what feeding his boyfriend like a pet made him look like. Probably a kinky asshole.

The milk carton, now considerably lighter, returned to its home in the fridge. Leblanc’s door chimed with the exit of the final customer, and Akira felt a sturdy hand grip his shoulder as he closed the fridge. He slowly swiveled to face his surrogate father with the most harmless expression he could muster. “What on earth was that commotion about earlier?” Sojiro asked.

“Goro can’t handle spicy food. I thought he would just eat the rice but he loves meat now? I’m just very confused at this point,” Akira replied. Having gone through the process of finding Morgana’s food preferences and pouring over lists of ingredients months ago, he knew exactly why. A cat’s true love was fish, but any meat at all made for an acceptable substitute.

“Huh. Well, I suppose that’s a good thing, he could use some meat. He’s almost as bad as Yusuke. Just don’t use all of my milk, okay?”

“I’ll buy some more tomorrow.”

“Alright.” Sojiro squeezed his shoulder. “I’m heading home. Don’t do anything stupid. Or at least don’t get caught.” He gave Akira a wry smirk before leaving the cafe. Akira locked the door behind him.

On the white tile floor of Leblanc’s bathroom, the evidence of this strange night was shed all over. Akira quickly changed into his pajamas and made a small effort to at least hide it in the corner with a broom. He made a mental note to do a full cleanse later.

When he left the bathroom, he wondered how much Leblanc’s customers could hear. Because from where he stood just right of the last booth- where the last patron had been seated when he grabbed the milk- he could hear little meows and a strangle rumbling from above. He crept back up to the attic on his toes, wincing at every small creak of the worn wood. Once the room came into view, he nearly choked.

The first thing he saw was widespread legs bent slightly at the knees, revealing a whole lot of cake. With a few more steps up he got a better angle; Goro was sprawled on his back in the middle of the floor, tailbone lifted off the ground, tail pulled up through his open thighs and squeezed between his ass cheeks. The rumbling Akira heard must’ve been from his hips rocking back and forth. As if that alone wasn’t world-shatteringly suggestive enough, he dragged his tongue up the length of it, alternating between slow strokes and quick short licks. 

_At least he’s wearing pants,_ Akira thought. Not that they left much to the imagination, the sheer amount of fluff on the tail did a better job of hiding that than anything. He’d assumed that because Goro was skinnier than him, his pants would leave some room, and they were low waisted to accommodate. Apparently he gravely underestimated how much thicker Goro’s thighs were. He might as well have been wearing the booty shorts. Or just his boxers. Akira could see the elastic waistband peeking out. Among other things.

He really couldn’t decide if this was disturbing or a major turn on. Instead of reconciling with the fascinating implications of the latter option, Akira made a third choice: if he didn’t stop Goro, he was going to spit up a massive hairball later and that would be deeply uncomfortable for both of them- Akira watching it in horror and Goro literally hacking out a regurgitated clump of his own hair. 

The box full of cat toys sat on the shelf right by the staircase. Akira dug through it to find something that didn’t go in Morgana’s mouth, and was frustrated to come up with nothing. A little plastic container filled with catnip sat at the bottom. He didn’t really want to use it. Getting Goro essentially high off his ass could cause a whole other slew of problems. However, he took it out to use as a last resort. Then he found the laser pointer.

Goro stopped his grooming when a glowing red dot appeared on his tail. He could’ve sworn he’d already gotten that spot. When licking it did nothing he scrunched his face up. Maybe glaring at it would make it go away. Somehow that worked, the little speck hopped off of his tail, only to land on his inner thigh. He leaned forward to lick it off, but just as he got close it moved onto the floor and started jittering around. Goro rolled up so he was on all fours and tried to catch his prey under his hands, but every time he pounced it somehow slipped through his fingers. Tauntingly, the little bugger circled behind his back. He kicked off his socks to get better traction. When he skittered around he couldn’t find it anywhere on the floor. He growled and his eyes darted around, looking for any trace of red. Finally, it reappeared on the floor by a sock-covered foot across the room. Goro looked up and saw a smug teen sitting crisscross. Joker pointed the laser at his own smirking lips.

That’s when Goro saw himself; suddenly quadrupedal and scratching at the floors. “You piece of shit,” he snarled, “you’re the worst.” He sprung off the floor and landed in Akira’s lap, wrapping his legs around the younger boy’s torso. 

Akira turned off the laser pointer and flung it aside. “Feeling nice and clean now, detective?” he goaded.

“You’re the worst,” Goro repeated.

“Because I for one feel much dirtier after what I just saw,” Akira continued. He put his fingers in Goro’s tied up hair. The ponytail held strong, but a lot of strands had escaped the hold of the bobby pins. He pulled Goro’s head in so that their foreheads were touching and they could feel each other’s breath.

“I heard you talking with Boss. I thought I could get it out of my system and be done before you came ba-” Goro halted mid-sentence when he spotted the laser on Akira’s mouth again. 

And suddenly he was pressing their lips together. Akira’s hands were warm underneath his shirt, gently rubbing his back. They danced around the sweet spot at the small of his back. One solid scratch made Goro’s hips thrust into Akira’s stomach. In a panic his eyes flew open and he clamped his teeth shut on Akira’s bottom lip. He started to break off but Akira’s fingers curling tight around the base of his tail held him in place. The thief’s other arm snaked all the way up his shirt and gripped his shoulder. Goro's own hands raked through unruly black curls. Akira's lips parted and Goro clumsily took the cue, sloppily scoping out the new territory with his tongue. Another scratch above the tail pushed him harder against Akira's abdomen.

It was Akira who broke off just enough to mutter, “Is that your tail that's pressing into my stomach or are you just that happy to see me?” Goro saw Akira's slate grey eyes glance downwards and pointedly kept his own trained on the face right in front of him. Akira was staring far too long. “Huh. It's both,” Akira remarked.

Goro's “Fuck off” got lost inside Akira's mouth. His clawed hands grasped tightly at the fabric of the younger boy’s shirt. Akira undid all the pins and ties pulling his hair back, letting it fall into a feathery mane. 

A scratching sensation deep in his throat made Goro pull back. The slight tickling at the back of his tongue was making him gag. It wasn't exactly nausea, he knew very well what that usually felt like, but whatever it was felt like something was stuck. And it would come out right now whether he liked it or not. 

Goro unhooked his legs from Akira's waist and crawled off of him. He got on his hands and knees, head turned down so he didn't shoot whatever it was across the room. The sound of his claws scraping the wood floors was horribly grating in his mountainous ears, but the action kept him steady through the convulsions of his esophagus. 

Akira's expression went through an emotional journey from confusion to concern to finally landing on dreadful recognition. He felt like he was watching a car crash: it was deeply unpleasant yet he couldn't tear his eyes away from the destruction. Leblanc was closed, he considered carrying Goro down to the bathroom, but it seemed a bit too late to do that. Sure enough, after several big full body retches, the wad of hair landed on the floor with a wet plop. 

“Holy shit,” was all Akira could really say to that. The fact that a human coughed that up at all frightened him, but he couldn’t really tell if anything about the hairball itself was cause for concern. It was bigger than Morgana’s for sure, but Morgana himself was significantly smaller than Goro too. Regardless, it was a lot of hair. “How long were you…?”

Goro’s breathing took a minute to even out. He looked vaguely ill, either from disgust or fatigue. Perhaps both. “You say that as if I have any grasp of reality when these inane urges take over,” he drawled. “I don’t know. Hours could’ve flown by and I wouldn’t have known until someone shoved a clock in my mouth.” His face twisted into a grimace. “I feel a bit nauseous now.”

The tissue box was a lighthouse in a sea of uncertainty stationed atop Akira’s desk. “Please don’t tell me it’s another one. That’s supposed to only happen once every week or two. I’d have to take you to the vet.”

“ _Take me to the vet?_ ” Goro repeated. He laughed sardonically. “That’s both belittling and absurd. If this lasts any longer than a day I’ll start eating live rodents and getting chased up trees.” He sat down on his legs and pointed towards Morgana’s litter box. “Mind giving me a tutorial?” he asked darkly, “I might need it.”

That lovely mental image wormed into Akira's mind and refused to leave. Great. Akira gathered up the furry sausage with a tissue and chucked it in the garbage. “No, what you need is sleep.” Akira hoisted Goro up by the armpits and carried him over to the bed. “If you're anything like a real cat, which it seems like you are judging from that whole mess, you need a lot of sleep. And you, human Goro Akechi, might have the darkest under-eye bags I've ever seen.”

“How sweet of you,” Goro deadpanned. Akira pressed a kiss to his ear before moving to the couch with a blanket. “Wait,” Goro called out, “what are you doing?”

Without looking back Akira replied, “What does it look like? I’m taking the couch.” Well yes, Goro could _see_ that, but the _why_ thwarted him.

“No you’re not.” Goro swiped the blanket out of his hands and flopped onto the couch before Akira could. As a sharp jolt of pain shot up his spine, he realized he’d made a bit of a miscalculation regarding his tail. He bit back a string of curses and silently willed Akira to turn around so he could shift without admitting defeat. “I’ve intruded enough as is, as long as you turn the lights off I should be able to sleep anywhere, right?”

Grave miscalculations seemed to be a running theme in Goro’s life. In the moments after Akira retired he discovered two things: he had some degree of night vision and there was no way he could go to sleep like this. He felt like a sardine in a tin, which he got an intense craving for the moment the comparison crossed his mind. The mouth-watering and subsequent drooling couldn’t be resolved, but maybe the other problem could.

For all he knew he could wake up having completely turned into a cat, at which point he would either be small enough that his pants would be more like an oversized sleeping bag, or if he stayed the same size it wouldn’t matter anyway because cats don’t need clothes. So he untied the drawstring and slid them off, all the while feeling down his legs and having a miniature crisis over whether this was a normal amount of hair given the last time he shaved. Once the joggers were across the room he did feel less like vacuum-sealed processed meat, but it didn’t resolve his discomfort. 

Between the ears lodged into his scalp being squished into the arm of the couch and the tail jutting out just above his rear knocking into the wall, it was impossible for Goro to lie down, regardless of how tightly he curled himself up. He sat up and looked over to the bed. Akira lay on the side of the futon closer to the wall but faced the ceiling. His lashes fluttered slightly with every soft breath cycle. Goro padded over to him, deliberately walking on his toes to avoid making the floorboards creak. Even as Goro loomed over him and waved a clawed hand in his face, Akira showed no signs of waking. Good.

Goro crawled into the bed and nestled up next to Akira, using the younger boy’s chest as a pillow. Usually he was an early riser anyway, so he would likely wake up and pry himself off of his boyfriend before the other even knew he was ever there. 

The sound of rumbly snores woke Akira up the following morning. His eyes opened just enough to catch a glimpse of the sun seeping through the blinds, but he quickly shut them again. As the haze of slumber lifted he tried to piece the situation together without looking. The snoring had to be Goro, he already knew from the tamer sleep status ailment that the brunette was prone to purring in his sleep and no one else could’ve possibly entered the cafe since Akira locked it last night. Judging from the weight on top of him, Goro was at least still human sized and had not shrunk into a grumpy little fur baby. Akira pulled an arm out from under the covers and blindly felt around for any more information. His hand found Goro’s hair, the brunette’s head rested on his stomach. Pushing up his bangs and feeling nothing weird was enough assurance for Akira to finally open his eyes.

The sight made him release a sigh of relief. Cuddling Akira on top of the sheet and unconsciously pawing at the air in front of him, Goro looked pretty adorable. Maybe his nose was slightly pinker and the already-existing cat features even fluffier (if that was possible), but otherwise, he seemed the same as he’d been last night. Akira reached for his phone to check the time. They needed to be heading out soon.

“Hey,” Akira said softly as he petted behind Goro’s ears, “time to wake up. We’ve gotta go.” Goro’s snore-purring was broken up by some mumbly-sounding meows, but he didn’t otherwise stir aside from more nuzzling.

Akira sighed, “Well, you left me no choice.” He scratched the weak point above Goro’s tail, but wasn’t prepared for the consequence of Goro moaning into his chest. The brunette looked up at him with bleary eyes. When what just happened hit him his face turned red and he jumped off of the bed with a yelp as if it had burned him.

Now with Goro standing upright, Akira noticed that he wasn’t wearing pants. Goro saw where his eyes were going and grabbed his tail to cover it up. “Why does this keep happening? Is it some kind of mating season?” he asked defensively.

“Yep. September to March,” Akira replied. “Calm down your horniness and put on some pants, we’re going to Mementos.”

“ _My_ horniness?!” Goro shrieked, “Speak for yourself you-” Akira cut him off with a kiss for probably the tenth time since their first once. Goro trilled contently and reciprocated, not faltering when Akira’s hand started journeying further down his back and slipped under the waistband of his underwear. Akira squeezed and pushed Goro so tightly against him that the detective could feel his own bulge pressing into the thief. God, he hated this thing.

He was spared further internal embarrassment by the Phantom Thieves group chat, buzzing incessantly and demanding that Akira unlock Leblanc’s door to let them in. They parted to quickly change into their clothes. As the rowdy bunch burst through the entrance and stampeded up the stairs, Goro prayed that Crow would have a way to cover his massive ears throughout this miserable trek.

Upon entering the Metaverse, that was not the case. His costume was modified to accommodate the cat parts, which made sense since his own cognition created it, but not by building the helmet around them. The triangular tufts fit perfectly through two slots in the hard shell, exposing and accenting their furriness. A slit in the back let the tail roam free. 

Piling into the Mona car once again presented Crow with the dilemma of how he was supposed to sit comfortably. The added factor of not impeding on Noir and Oracle’s space made it even more difficult. He wanted to assume the perching position commonly associated with cats, but even the polite Noir would protest to his knobby knee in her face. Slouching down until his tail was off the seat was another option, but then his whole rear would be off and he wouldn’t really be sitting anymore. Mona lacked the legroom for such measures anyway, unless he really spread his legs and tainted someone’s innocence. 

Crow scooted as far off the edge as he could and gripped the seat in between his legs. His helmet made a little thunk when he leaned his head against the window. The monotony of the repetitive train tracks threatening to lull him into a cat nap, which while highly appealing would not be a great idea in Mementos. He tried tuning into their small talk as a means of keeping himself awake, but Mona’s declarations of love to fatty tuna made him hunger for fish. 

A revving aside from Mona’s engine made Crow’s ears perk up and swivel around. Crow shifted his body around to peer through the back window, careful not to poke Noir with his neckpiece. Two glowing headlights attached to a little blue car approached them from behind. The car drove up next to them, gold star balloons brushing against the windowpane. Crow saw the small egg child at the wheel wave cheerfully at them before zooming into the depths.

An expert on mementos...Jose could have a cure to his ailment. Crow wrapped his clawed fingers around the row of seats in front of him and leaned forward until he was nearly standing upright. “Niijima, you need to floor it and find that child,” Crow demanded, “he might have answers I need.”

“Hey! Quit scratching at my seats!” Mona exclaimed, “These aren’t exactly replaceable, you know.” Crow looked down at his hands and sheepishly sunk back into his seat. 

Just as he settled back down, the bus collided with a shadow and he was forced out to go fight. The inky figure burst open and formed into a phallic demon on a golden chariot. Fox turned to Skull and said, “As I told you yesterday, _this_ is far stranger than that.” He pointed towards Crow.

Skull’s usual energy seemed non-existent when he admitted defeat. “You’ve got me there.”

Joker snuck up behind Crow and whispered, “You know, this is kind of thematically appropriate.” Before Crow could ~~kiss~~ smack the smirk off of his face, Joker tackled him to the ground and out of the way of a big fireball. The thief’s grin was wide. “I returned the favor.”

“Well _you_ didn’t get hit with a dick spell,” Crow snarled. He pushed Joker off of him. “Stop stradling me and lead us.”

“A thank you would be nice,” Joker said, “without me you’d have a signed tail.” He laughed when Crow angrily flipped him off. “Okay fine.” He shouted, “Oracle what are we dealing with here?”

“No weaknesses on this thing, but don’t use any curse or fire skills. Curse will just get reflected back at you and fire only makes it stronger,” Oracle said.

No curse blew out most of Crow’s spell options. Usually he’d be okay with getting up close and slicing the nasty fucker to bits, but now he had exposed fur to worry about. He knew his cat brain would try to clean it via his tongue, which undeniably would be unsanitary and possibly toxic. Crow drew his gun and shot at it. All his bullets fell to the ground.

“It also blocks gunfire,” Oracle added, “you could summon Robin Hood, but bless attacks won’t do much to it and you’d risk being exposed to its curse spells. Loki gives you immunity at least.”

A lightbulb went off above Joker’s head. “I’ve got an idea. And it involves you doing what you do best.”

“How the fuck is this me doing what I do best?” Crow screamed as he ran laps around the shadow screeching profanities. He passed by Panther, who held her hand up for a high five he begrudgingly accepted. The blonde had also been doomed to be a pawn in Joker’s ridiculous plan due to the immunity her persona granted her to fire skills. Or maybe Joker just had a thing for cat people, a reasonable assumption given the events of the past however many hours. 

The strategy was to have the two of them run around and yell like crazy people. This served as a distraction so the others could inflict ailments and then go for the technical, but also mobilized two human shields to protect anyone who was in trouble. Crow particularly kept an eye on Violet and Panther on Fox. 

“You’re very loud and very distracting,” Joker shouted back with a wink. He jumped back just in time to avoid getting hit, ironically having been distracted by Crow.

The shadow fired that same attack a second time, and Crow dove in front of Violet to intercept. He didn’t know how he managed to land on his feet given the way he’d lunged forwards. A quick glance up at Violet showed her to be equally impressed. “I apologize in advance for ruining your innocence with what I’m about to say to your idiot senpai,” Crow said. He ran after Joker and howled, “Stop thinking about _my_ dick and start thinking about DESTROYING THAT ONE!”

He continued his endless laps, the growing cramp in his stomach keeping him from coming up with any diversion wittier than screaming “shit” and “fuck” over and over again. Panther’s version of that wasn’t as vulgar, but just as rudimentary as she went through a cycle of “heyyy” and “pay attention to meeeee!” Crow questioned the practicality of using a teenage girl in a leather bodysuit with her cleavage showing as bait for a giant penis on wheels.

Mercifully, someone knocked it down and called for a hold-up. Panther came to his side, both of them struggling to catch their breath but still holding the slimy bastard at gunpoint. Joker stepped forward, cracking his knuckles for dramatics before aiming his own weapon at the...head(?). 

“I think we should just kill it,” Panther said. She winced, “I don’t like the way it's looking at me.”

“I agree,” Crow concurred, “let’s blow this fu-” he cut himself off at the sight of a blue car and a small corruptible child pulling up next to them, “-funky loser to heck.” Skull snickered and Panther shot him a look.

“In front of the baby?” Joker asked, jerking a thumb back to where Jose was now setting up camp, “No way.” A devilish smirk stretched across his face. Crow’s heart hammered in his chest. “ _Show me the goods_.”

The whole team was disturbed into silence until the shadow dropped an item and rolled away. Once it disappeared, Oracle broke the ice from the safety of her floating persona, “Joker I hope you know Crow’s going to have dreams about you saying that to him now.”

Panther took a step away from Crow when his tail started swishing back and forth. He sulked over to Jose’s camp amidst mocking laughter and sat down on the crate Joker usually took. For once he could just sit like a person, as there was no back to crush his tail. Jose gave him a bright smile and hopped onto the hood of his car. His big round eyes fixated on the top of Crow’s head.

“You look a little different from the last time I saw you, mister,” Jose observed. Crow bit back his scathing remark about that being the understatement of the century. The child paused a moment to think. “You’re a year older than your leader, correct? Does this happen as humans grow up?”

Crow’s face fell. “So you don’t know what these are,” he said. Jose shook his head. With a heavy sigh, Crow took his mask off for added visibility. “Shoot. I was hoping you would, they’re not natural, they appeared after a shadow down here put a spell on me. Since you are the Mementos expert, if anyone had an antidote it would have to be you.”

“Maybe if you could explain it to me I could do something?” Jose suggested.

“Oh. Uh…Mona! I need you over here,” Crow yelled. Mona skittered over with Fox in tow. Crow narrowed his eyes. “I asked for Mona.”

Fox made himself comfortable seated on the ground and opened up a sketch pad. “I will not intrude on your conversation, I simply wish to sketch you while you are mostly still. The juxtaposition between the harsh angles of your attire and the softness of your features makes for a fascinating study.”

Crow blinked slowly and maintained his skepticism a beat longer before relenting. “Fine. Just don't submit it for anything, I don't need that getting out and someone recognizing my face. Anyways, when we leave Mementos and return to our world, Mona takes on the form of a cat.” Mona opened his mouth to protest but Crow cut him off, “I didn't say you _were_ a cat. I said you looked like one. Here he's not quite a cat, but he keeps a lot of the key physical traits, the one major difference being that he walks on two legs as opposed to four.” Crow pointed to the features as he listed them, “Cats have large triangular ears, whiskers, paws for hands, claws, a tail, and fur. Yesterday when I got hit, the ears and tail appeared.”

“No, they grew out of you really slowly,” Mona corrected, “and it was weird.”

Jose rummaged through his car, hopefully for an item they could use. When he pulled out his yellow hammer, Crow started to get hopeful. The boy knelt down on the ground, feeling for a pressure point he could hit to alter the cognition of Mementos. He smiled when he felt it, and raised the rubbery mallet above his head. In anticipation, Crow grabbed his tail and rested it in his lap so he could see if Jose’s trick worked. The hammer squeaked when it connected with the earth, and soon after Crow heard a similarly cartoony boing. 

Jose quickly glanced at him to check if it had worked. The tail’s continued presence signaled that it hadn’t, so Jose tried again. Still no change, even though the odd noise afterward was louder. Mona looked at him like he’d just grown...something. Crow frowned. “Can I help you?”

“Akechi, for everyone’s sake,” Mona pleaded with a bastardized mix of sarcasm and rare sincerity, “you should never try to grow facial hair.” He pulled a compact mirror out of his fanny pack just in time for Jose’s third swing. 

Any questioning as to why Mona had a mirror died in Crow’s mouth when he saw the long whiskers shooting out of his face. With a springy twang, several more pierced through the skin around his nose and mouth on both sides, and the existing ones grew longer. A startled meow came out when the vibrissae swept forward independently of him to brush over the mirror with their tips. More disturbingly, he could feel every single one. It looked like he had a sparse wiry mustache. 

“Hang on!” Jose said, “I think I’ve almost got it.” He hit the pressure point once more. That only moved the whisker count up to a terrible twelve on each side, with spindly white hairs now starting to emerge from Crow’s carefully plucked eyebrows too. The longest now extended nearly to his shoulders. His thumb cracked the mirror’s reflective glass.

“Almost better be soon!” Crow squeaked. “If I still have whiskers in the next two minutes I _will_ have a meltdown. That’s not a threat, that’s a promise.” 

“Just one more! Then I can reset.” Crow closed his eyes to shut out the look of pity the cat thing was giving him, and focused on trying not to hyperventilate. Mona nudged his leg with his head after two squeaks and he opened them. Crow yanked off one of his gauntlets so he could feel his face. The sharpened nails signaled that he still wasn’t completely back to normal, but the smooth skin under his fingertips confirmed a successful reset to how he’d been upon waking up this morning. 

On the dark pavement beneath his toes he saw the thin lines of white. So they must’ve literally fallen out. Crow was glad he’d closed his eyes. Jose laid his hammer down on the seat of his car and took up his previous position on the hood. “Sorry about that,” he said easily as if Crow hadn’t been moments away from dissolving into complete hysteria, “I don’t quite understand everything about humans yet, so it’s hard to predict their overall cognition. But according to what you told me, what happened to you fits with people’s cognition of cats. Since the transformation came from a spell and not cognition, it cannot be rewritten by changing Mementos. Mementos takes what is present and enhances it.”

“I see…” Mona mused, “so if he became enough like a cat, would Crow be able to turn into a bus like I can?” 

“I wouldn't mind riding in a Crow bus.” The detective startled and a pair of arms draped around his shoulders. Red gloves. Joker.

“You're just saying that because you want to sit on me or be inside me or whatever,” Crow mumbled. His blood turned to ice. “How long were you listening?”

“Not long,” Joker replied, “all I heard was something about you turning into a bus. Did you figure out a cure?”

“No. I just have to wait it out. I’ll be okay, just so long as this-” Crow put his glove back on and vaguely gestured to the ears and tail “is as far as it goes.” Mona gave him an unreadable look that he made a conscious decision to ignore.

“You can stay with me again. It'll be fun.” Joker handed a bunch of stamps to Jose. “Crank up the money output, please. We’re buying the good sushi tonight.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't go into this chapter intending to write a third, but here we are now I guess.  
> As always, kudos and comments are appreciated! I hope you enjoyed and stay tuned!
> 
> In the meantime, tell me weird things you've seen cats do on twitter [right here](https://twitter.com/3muske_tears?lang=en). I might end up using it :)


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Treat yourself ft. the gay boys and Morgana needing a raise

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow this ended up far longer than I intended for it to. Bathhouse scenes write themselves. Enjoy!

The group of teens formed a circle in the little glass resting area, some perched on chairs, and others seated on the floor. Joker laid out all of their earnings from the day and mouthed numbers as he counted out the money. When he hit a certain number he paused. A big grin broke out on his face, he slammed the stack of bills onto the floor and he turned to Crow.

“Good news. There’s more than enough left over for our sushi,” Joker said, “we can stop here for today.” The sharp mask concealed most of Crow’s face, but Joker could still decipher his reaction from his perky ears and slightly curled tail. It made Joker all the more excited to pamper him.

“Joker.” Queen admonished, “Did you have us do all that extra fighting just so you could eat a fancier dinner?” Had that been the truth, the exhausted eyes searing into his skull would’ve made him sweat a little.

“Nope.” He pulled a thicker wad of cash out of his coat and set it down. “The ones we fought were just kinda loaded.” At their slack jaws, he laughed. “Let’s take tomorrow off,” he suggested, “these past two trips have been a lot, for some of us more than others.” Crow snorted.

As everyone was climbing into the Mona bus, Joker turned around to Oracle and Noir. “Does either of you want to switch with me?”

He got no verbal reply, but Oracle hopped out of her seat immediately. Crow and Noir cowered away to avoid getting kicked as she climbed over. Once she started poking at Fox, Joker happily sat between them. As the bus started moving along the bumpy tracks, Joker took notice of Crow’s posture. With his mask now removed, Joker could see his eyes dulled with fatigue. He sat up straight on the edge of the seat, though he clearly wasn’t comfortable like that. 

“Goro,” Joker said softly. Crow seemed to have heard him, his ears swiveled towards Akira’s voice, but there was no recognition. “ _Goro_ ,” he repeated louder. 

The brunette startled and slowly blinked himself out of the trance he’d been in. His lazy softness disappeared when he turned his head to face Joker. “ _What_.”

“You look tired. Lie down on me, you’ll be comfier,” Joker offered. 

The softness returned momentarily, but then Crow shook his head to dispel it, “That completely defeats the purpose of a seat belt.” As if a boy who’d become a hitman at fifteen could ever be a poster child for personal safety.

“Nonsense. You’re wearing a helmet, and I’ll be holding onto you the whole time.” 

Crow paused to consider, blatantly stalling long enough that Joker got a bit impatient. He plucked off one of his signature red gloves and started petting the grumpy detective. Like a sweet popsicle Crow melted under the warm touch. “Alright,” he said, dreaminess undermining the likely intended facade of reluctance. He meowed and pooled into a human(?) puddle in Joker’s lap, knees drawn into his chest. “You win.”

True to his word, Joker wrapped his other arm around his boyfriend. He bit back a laugh when Crow instinctively tried to nuzzle his hand only to be thwarted by the pointy neckpiece on his Metaverse costume. To avoid annoying him and making him change his mind about the whole “plan,” Joker turned to Noir next to him as if nothing weird was happening. “How has your garden been going?” he asked.

Noir seemed relieved to find something to do other than pretend not to stare at Crow mewling in his lap. “Quite well!” she replied cheerfully, “Because of the cold weather, I decided to focus on growing herbs I can use to make tea. I have some classics- lemon, mint, lavender, chamomile, ginger- and others I thought would be nice like sage and-” her eyes flickered downward momentarily “catnip.”

Crow’s ears perked up and he cracked an eye open. “We mostly do coffee at Leblanc,” Joker said, “but I’m sure Boss has some tips for brewing really great tea. I’ll be sure to ask him when I’ve got a moment.” Who knew when he’d next have the chance to stop and ask, given the current circumstances. Yesterday they left Mementos earlier than usual when Crow was first infected. Today they left around the regular time, meaning more than twenty-four hours had passed with no sign of a return to normalcy. Not that Joker minded all that much, but he knew Crow thought differently. The boy using him as a pillow was already filled to the brim with pent-up rage and unrelieved anxiety, the loss of control could easily cause an overflow.

Returning to reality meant going from Crow lying on Joker’s lap to Goro clinging to Akira’s leg. The claws digging into his calf were nothing new, but Goro was significantly bigger than the usual culprit. Akira squeezed the pom-pom on top of his knit beanie- Akira’s own this time, Kasumi’s red hat had seen enough. Seeing Goro wear it and his trenchcoat made Akira smile a little. They were just two boyfriends sharing clothes. Despite the supernatural reasoning, there was inherent domesticity to the thought.

As much as he’d really, truly love to let Goro stay attached to him all day, he couldn’t exactly move like this. His attempts to shake his leg were only met with a tighter hold. Akira sighed and tried to walk forward, the leg Goro clung to dragging behind him. Goro meowed in protest to Akira's continued efforts to pry him away. 

“Goro, we can't get sushi if I can't walk,” Akira said. Goro’s eyes narrowed at him into little slits and he reluctantly let his fingers be plucked from Akira’s leg. When Akira looked back at the rest of his team, they were all facing the dysfunctional pair, but their eyes very blatantly looked at the sky or their shoes. “Well,” Akira started awkwardly, “good work everyone. Tomorrow we have off, so make sure you all get some rest and relax."

Ryuji snorted, "Good luck with that." Goro- now on his feet- twisted his soft lips into a pointed grimace. Before anything escalated further, Akira scooped up his smaller cat in one arm and held onto his bigger cat with his other arm. Morgana perched himself comfortably on Akira's shoulders, little claws poking at the skin through his winter layers.

Once they'd powerwalked a good distance away from the rest of the party, Goro huddled closer to him, mumbling a half-hearted excuse about it being cold to justify himself. Seeing as he'd been surgically attached to Akira's leg mere moments ago, the bespectacled teen wasn't buying it. He let it be, Goro could always be counted on to deny deny _deny_ any accusation that any part of him was soft. Made vulnerable by a need to fill a hole carved into his chest by neglect's swift daggers.

So maybe using Phantom Thieves' money to buy him sushi was a little selfish, even if they did have plenty to spare. Or it was an immeasurable kindness, a step towards filling a dark void and an empty stomach in one calculated splurge.

Morgana seemed to be in agreement with the former statement. Sort of. "Hey!" he protested right in Akira's ear, "Why don't you ever take me out for nice sushi? You and the Sakuras left me at home last time."

"I do take you out for sushi. I'm taking you out for sushi right now," Akira corrected. Goro's short laugh sounded more like a grunt. Morgana wrapped himself around Akira to send Goro a half-hearted glare, to which the crown prince of all dirty looks did not react.

"No, you're taking Akechi out for sushi," Morgana doubly corrected, "I'm only here because you have no choice but to take me. There's no way you're getting away with ditching me for two nights in a row, Joker." If Morgana had been present for anything that had transpired in Leblanc for the past 24 hours, Goro would've spent the whole time hiding under the couch. And therefore probably would not have kissed Akira- fickle with affection as he was. As much as Akira loved his little fur baby, that was a necessary sacrifice. No way Morgana wanted to see them sucking face anyway.

"I would never ditch you if I wasn't smuggling catboys, trust me," Akira assured him. He almost kissed the incredibly unamused look right off of Goro's face, but the watchful blue eyes trained on his every move stopped him. "And now I get a nice night with both of my cats," he added with a wink sent Goro's way. 

" **I'm not a cat!** " Goro and Morgana screeched in perfect cultish unison. They locked eyes and both tilted their heads to the side like a really weird funhouse mirror. Neither made a sound- feline or human- but Akira got the feeling he was witnessing an unparalleled meeting of the minds. Two tsundere cats-in-denial with very different attachments to one Akira Kurusu.

Akira couldn't help himself, he buckled over and started full-on wheezing. One of them yowled- Akira didn't even know which, they were both holding on to him- and he felt two sets of claws poking him. All the similarities stacking up only made it infinitely funnier, though neither of his companions would ever agree unless held at gunpoint. Actually, maybe Morgana would agree at gunpoint, but Goro wouldn't. He'd take that to the grave.

"Yeah, yeah, let's go satisfy both of your crippling seafood cravings," Akira said casually when he'd recovered enough. The simultaneous scoffing from both sides almost sent him into another laughing fit, but he held himself together to avoid their combined wrath. One person could only take so many claws.

Their hungry trio arrived in front of the same sushi bar they'd all ate out at following Kaneshiro's confession. Ryuji had accidentally blurted out his affiliation to the Phantom Thieves while they were here and they'd somehow bought Makoto's lackluster cover, so Akira assumed he could figure something out if someone questioned the cat or the baby faced teenager who was inexplicably acting like one.

Oh, shoot. He knew Goro so much as an actual person now that he forgot the famed second coming of the Detective Prince was still a recognizable face to a good portion of the general public. If luck was on their side, the hat hiding his cat ears and altering the appearance of his haircut would throw people off. For Akira it tended to be, given his survival of many a clinical trial, a yakuza deal, and an incredibly half-baked plan to fake his death. Goro, not so much. Maybe they balanced out as they did with just about everything else.

The host didn't see the squirming in Akira's bag and let them in without a problem, pointing out two vacant stools on the side of the rectangular bar. Not having their backs face towards the door was good at least, that way if Goro's tail decided to poke out and say hi, there would be fewer possible witnesses. 

Speaking of which, from his position just a few steps behind Goro, he could see ripples in the fabric of his coat where Goro's tail was wiggling in his pants. Akira knew Goro normally liked sushi and had repeatedly asked Sae Niijima- according to her- if they could go out to a place like this sometime. Once Akira settled into the neighboring chair and slung the bag with Morgana on the back, he could see how the rest of Goro was bursting with barely contained excitement. He sat up straight with his legs crossed and his hands primly folded in his lap, the perfect picture of politeness. His energy rested in the minute details, the tapping of his foot under the counter and the fidgeting of his fingers in his lap. Akira wanted to take one of those jittery hands and cradle it in his own, to let Goro's anticipation surge through him second-hand and confirm that this was a fantastic idea on his part.

Goro buried his nose in the menu as soon as it was handed to him, squinting to make sure he didn't miss a single word like this was the single most important decision of his entire life. Akira picked up his menu, resting it in his lap and angling it so that Morgana could read. The cat's head poked out of Akira's bag and scanned over his options with laser focus, only stopping to ask Akira about certain ingredients in the item descriptions. Akira would order a portion slightly larger than what he would eat, just so Morgana could get in on the action without raising suspicion by ordering for a non-existent third person.

Akira leaned over to peer at Goro's menu, his chin just ghosting Goro's shoulder. "Have you made up your mind?" he asked.

"Don't rush me, you heathen," Goro snapped, though it was hard to feel genuinely affected by his barbed-wire words when he looked like a kid in a toy store for the first time. "Unless you selfishly decide to overwork your precious teammates on the daily just to splurge their earnings on expensive sushi, this is my one shot. I don't want to waste it. And if you do decide to force that upon your friends, I will kill you."

"Hm, so you _do_ care," Akira accused while Morgana almost jumped right out of the bag to protest, "No killing Joker! I'll scratch your eyes out before you get the chance."

Without taking his eyes off the menu, Goro grunted noncommittally and held up his hand. The mood lighting illuminated the sharp tips of his claws. "Good luck with that," he drawled.

Morgana glared and sighed, "Just hurry up, Akechi. I'm hungry." Goro's eyes nearly rolled right out of his head, but he closed the menu gingerly and set it down on the counter.

The whole time they were placing their order, Akira spared little glances towards Goro's back to make sure there wasn't too much noticeable movement back there. When the waiter asked if Goro wanted extra soy sauce with his order, Akira saw some rippling under the long coat. His face softened. However troublesome it was, his enthusiasm and the way it physically manifested in this form were just so damn cute. For once, Akira found himself being the one falling into a trance, taking how well real happiness suited his boyfriend. It seemed foreign, but only in the sense that it was relatively new, not that it was out of place. The soft upward curve of his lips matched the gentle line of his jawline and the slope of his nose. The tip of his nose was still rosy from the cold outside, Akira longed to warm it up with a little peck.

"Akira." Goro was waving a hand in front of his face, looking mildly irritated. Were they alone, he got the feeling Goro would've smacked him. "Your order."

"Oh. Haha sorry about that, guess I zoned out about." _Daydreaming about how pretty you are, you gorgeous idiot_. Akira rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly in a nervous habit and ordered for himself and Morgana, with extra fatty tuna to take home of course.

Once the waiter left to relay their order to the kitchen staff, Akira took one of Goro's hands in his own and squeezed it. He was somewhat surprised by how small it felt entrapped in his fingers. Goro’s hand, free of his gloves once, stored the cold from outside the way insulation stores heat. Peculiar how’d they’d kissed multiple times, cuddled a lot, seen each other naked months ago, and even slept in the same bed, yet as far as Akira could recall, this was the first time they’d ever held hands. That probably should’ve been one of the beginning steps if not the very first, but he guessed being part cat made Goro more of a snuggler. Goro eyed their intertwined hands with a twinge of confusion. Akira just smiled back at him and rubbed his thumb along Goro’s wrist.

Their drinks arrived and Goro retracted his hand forcefully. He cupped it around the icy glass of water he ordered, undoubtedly undoing any progress Akira had made towards warming him up. Akira tried not to look _too_ sad about it, more to avoid Morgana’s interrogation than spare Goro any guilt for being so prickly. Not that Goro would see his face anyway, the detective was absorbed in his own reflection on the surface of the glass. The water was filled up to the very top, a slight jostle would cause a spill. Goro’s tongue stuck out of his mouth just enough that Akira wanted to go back in time and tell himself to just get takeout.

“Goro,” Akira said. Even with the hat, Akira could still see Goro’s ears perk up, two little divots in the dark wool. Why did he have to make it so hard for Akira to resist petting him. “The glass is full enough that you could probably drink it without anyone noticing.” Morgana decided Akechi Goro not being able to drink a glass of water was interesting enough for him to pop out of the bag again.

Slowly Goro brought the glass up to his lips. Akira gently pushed Morgana’s head back into the bag, trying to play it off as some particularly forceful petting. Morgana nipped at his hand, thwarting his attempts to save Goro’s dignity. The perspiration clouding the inside of the glass effectively concealed the fact that Goro was lapping it up like a pet, just as Akira had hoped. He knew it was completely out of Goro’s control, but Akira couldn’t help but question how that was practical. Akira could probably down his whole glass in one or two gulps, meanwhile Morgana and now Goro would barely be scratching the surface. Especially as the water level got too low for their tongues to reach in the narrow vessels, as was happening now. Goro had rested the base of the glass back on the counter and was still trying to shove his nose further down. Eventually, Goro got the cue that this was futile and retreated. The area around his mouth and the tip of his nose were wet. Since he’d been holding it, the glass he unfogged considerably, even with how cold his hands were to touch. It was still half full.

With some hesitation, Akira leaned over to him and whispered, “Do you want me to ask for a straw?”

“Do you see anyone else here using a straw?” Goro wiped the water off his face with his sleeve and then used the same arm to subtly gesture to the ring of adults seated around them. They all laughed haughtily while discussing current events as if they were at a gala instead of a restaurant that let Goro keep his beanie on. 

“To be fair, no one else here is turning into a cat person.” That remark earned Akira slap on the arm from Goro’s cold dead fish hand. At least Morgana thought he was funny, judging from the muffled “ _nyahaha_ ” he heard behind him.

“Thank you for the reminder. I was completely unaware that that was a thing that was happening to me. Your insight is always so astute,” Goro seethed in a shockingly self-aware mockery of himself. If only he could apply that awareness in a way that wasn’t as self-deprecating as his usual emotional constipation was.

Letting Goro cool down before the food arrived seemed like the best plan, so Akira took out his phone. The Phantom Thieves group chat was Pandora’s box incarnate, 257 texts to backread containing unspeakable chaos and evil. The latest text was from Ryuji, it’s tantalizing preview reading “Oh to be a cheese stick in a…” Damned cliffhangers. The context had to be even funnier. But that was a task for when Goro was sleeping on top of him and pawing at phantom mice while he snored. 

There was a separate text from Ryuji as well, an invitation to go fishing. Kinda funny how Ryuji said Akira wouldn’t have a break and yet asked to fill his free time anyway. Akira remembered the one time Goro accompanied them, and that he sucked at fishing, so he could probably just take a nap or wander around. Morgana peered over his shoulder and read Ryuji’s messages. “What are you going to do? Will you hang out with Ryuji?”

“I think so. _We_ could have a lot of fun just doing normal teenager stuff for once.” Akira saw Goro’s ears tilt to face him. Goro mumbled something about normal teenagers not having _body counts_ or _furry fucking tails_ before resuming the incredibly thrilling task of counting the dark rings in the wooden counter. 

The messages from his jobs he ignored- except Lala, who he quickly sent an emoji of two boys kissing and a wink before Morgana could see- and there was a quick fortune from Chihaya claiming that supernatural forces were more present in his aura than usual. She’d probably be the only person without Metaverse knowledge who wouldn’t immediately freak out if he took Goro to her, she’d probably just nod and say this confirmed her readings. 

But most fascinating were by far the 3 image attachments from Yusuke. That either meant lobster pictures or artwork. The former he would probably send to the group as opposed to Akira individually, so it had to be a new piece. Akira opened their direct message channel and saw broad strokes framing a familiar pouting face, but he didn’t have time to take a good look because a large plate of fresh sushi was being placed in front of him.

Akira flinched slightly and quickly shoved his phone under his leg, he’d be in serious shit if any outsiders saw whatever Yusuke had drawn- with both Yusuke himself and supernatural investigators worldwide. The sushi looked amazing though, a worthy recipient of its high price tag. The rolls were lined up in perfect little rows in the center of the rectangular dish. The little clump of extra wasabi Akira requested was placed carefully so as to not detract from the symmetry of the dish. Akira didn't get the point in putting so much energy into making something look nice that would just end up in someone's stomach. Meanwhile, Goro next to him was pulling out his phone and adjusting the plate by mere millimeters to get the perfect lighting. He didn't seem like he'd stave off his hunger long enough to actually get a good picture judging from how wide his eyes were. Given the chance, Akira might be able to pick out a few constellations in that starry crimson sky.

With his chopsticks, Akira adorned most of his rolls with a bit of wasabi, leaving some bare for Morgana's enjoyment. Goro saw what he was doing and offered up his own little green fireball, which Akira plucked away happily. Their twin tubs of soy sauce sat side by side, the edges of the square plates pressed together. 

The first roll popped into Akira’s mouth was delicious, meaty tuna carefully wrapped in seaweed and rice. Even he, drinker of disgusting green concoctions from the Shibuya drink stand and conqueror of every unholy variety of Big Bang Burger, needed a bit of water to neutralize the spicy seasoning. “This. Is amazing,” Akira decided, already taking a wasabi-free piece for Morgana before the cat could whine about wanting some. Little bits of rice fell to the floor and into Akira’s bag, but Morgana’s happy meow affirmed that he did a good thing despite the mild mess. “Goro, how are you-...”

Okay. A lot of the shit he’d seen yesterday was absolutely fucking hilarious, not only because it was a human acting like a cat, but particularly because it was known meticulously well-mannered and professional control freak Akechi Goro acting like a cat. And now Goro was shaking with the urge to drop all of that, Mr. Show-Off Ambidextrous ready to ditch his chopsticks altogether. His hand quaked, squeezing a roll between the two wooden rods. 

Only last night he was using a spoon with no issue. Fascinating. It could just be the fact that it was sushi making him go full cat as it did for Morgana, or this ailment’s potency was still growing with time.

Goro’s narrowed eyes darted about the room, examining each and every person, analyzing their movements. He kept at it for a solid minute, in which Akira had already eaten a second roll while still keeping an eye on his boyfriend. It was hard not to audibly react when a trigger went off in Goro’s brain and he essentially face-planted onto the plate, taking a roll in his mouth. 

He lifted his head up and turned to face Akira, sushi still held in his teeth. Akira didn’t want to open his mouth in fear that pearls of laughter would fall out and roll onto the floor. Goro huffily turned away and started chewing. Under the hat, his ears drooped from the embarrassment and he covered his face with his hands, though the moment the food hit his taste buds the ears perked right back up again. Akira lifted a guiding hand up to Goro’s furthest cheek and made him look at him again.

Akira tilted Goro’s head back, took some of his sushi, and dangled it above him. Goro’s eyes went wide, staring up at the little rice cylinder like it was all the validation he’s ever wanted. A normal person would make the comparison to a diamond or treasure of some capitalist shit, but Akira got the feeling that wouldn’t be Goro’s cup of tea. “Open wiiide~,” he said in a voice so grossly sing-songy that he feared Morgana might actually throw up in his bag.

Bitchy tsundere Goro only surfaced long enough for him to hesitate a moment before opening his mouth without Akira pushing further. Akira fed Goro and he made the sweetest little “mrrrrrreeeow” noise. The laugh that escaped from Akira was both genuine and an attempt to cover up the obvious anomaly in the idle chatter of the venue. Thank goodness all these people were too absorbed in their own conversations to pay a pair of really weird teenagers any mind.

Out of the corner of his eye, Akira saw Morgana eye him with the most skepticism and confusion a cat’s face could muster. “We’re going to have a conversation about this later,” Morgana stated, no room left for Akira to wiggle around it.

“That’s fine, but I don’t think I can leave Goro unattended,” Akira reminded him, silencing Goro’s oncoming tirade about being independent by popping another sushi roll into his mouth. Adorable cat noises ensued. Akira had subdued him for now. “So as long as you’re cool with him hearing it, we can talk all you like.”

Morgana screwed up his little face, looking at Goro with the utmost scrutiny while Akira continued to feed him sushi. Akira would not be shocked to learn that they swapped bodies for just that brief moment. “Maybe I’ll have to knock him out,” the cat muttered when he thought Akira was too occupied with Goro to listen.

“I’ll try what I do with you sometimes, just feed you until you’re too sleepy to nag me,” Akira teased. Joking aside, that’d probably be a charitable act given the troublesome combo of Goro’s eating and sleeping habits. Surely that would make him change his opinion on this whole catboy situation, Akira just needed to frame it as a self care intervention sent from above and then Goro would embrace the change. Akira snorted at the sheer magnitude of bullshit packed into that notion. 

Goro's plate disappeared pretty quickly. As soon as the detective was done with one roll he already had his big pleading eyes set for the next one. In hindsight, maybe he always did that, _something_ had to have convinced Akira that continuing to crush on him was acceptable even after the whole murder plot was uncovered by Futaba's bug. Or it was new to cat Goro and Akira was just a dumb gay defenseless against a smart little femme boy.

Morgana did the cat-in-bag equivalent of demandingly slamming his hands on the table, aka headbutting Akira's arm. "Now that you're done pampering the traitor you better feed me some!"

"If you cut that out maybe I will," Akira replied. Goro's Cheshire-esque smirk really suited him like this. Morgana's obedience earned him some extra ginger.

And yet, Goro was now eyeing _Akira's_ plate with those (in a twist of great irony) puppy dog eyes, his mouth curved into a little squiggle like a sideways number three. Geez, he was annoyingly cute. "Goro, you don't want my sushi. I put a shitton of wasabi on it, and there are several reasons why I can't get you milk to help deal with it." The lack of its presence on the menu and Goro's recent history of a strong reaction, for starters.

A long-clawed finger pointed at Akira's plate. "That one doesn't have any."

"That's for my cat."

Akira knew he was really smitten when Goro responded, "But aren't _I_ your cat?" _Keep it together, he won't let you call him that anymore the moment he has what he wants_.

"Only when it's convenient for you, it seems." _Nice. You passed the test_.

Morgana gawked at Goro. "You had your own plate!" he interjected, "Back off of my food!"

"How about we make a new deal? You won't refuse me now, will you?" Goro asked with that stupid coy tilt of his head that made Akira do all sorts of mental gymnastics.

Akira glared at him behind his wide-framed glasses. He'd never understand why Goro used to use that dumb tv smile to disarm people when his real, crooked grin had much more of an influence. "No deals. But I'll give you _one piece. That's it_." He took most of the wasabi off one of his own pieces, popped it into his mouth, and used the same chopsticks to feed Goro.

"Ew. You just indirectly kissed him," Morgana pointed out while Goro emitted a pleased little " _mrrrrrrew!_ " sound.

Akira shrugged. "I've done worse." He evaded Morgana's barrage of questions (for now) with round fishy peace offerings.

While he was continuing to work on his own plate, he saw Goro's eyelids start to droop, pretty eyelashes fluttering shut. "I'm full," Goro murmured in a high, dreamy voice, "I think I'm gonna take a lil nap."

"We're in a restaurant, you can't-" Akira's protest was too little too late, Goro had already curled up on the barstool with his head resting on the counter. It didn't look like it should be comfortable, but frankly Akira had seen cats sleep in far stranger positions. He couldn't even be all that mad about Goro just conking out in public, not when he was doing that little purr-snore Akira found so obnoxiously endearing. And it also gave him an opening to steal Goro's extra ginger.

"Can we have that talk about you being _super_ weird with Akechi now?" Morgana asked, "Because this is getting gross. Are you two _dating_?"

"Yeah. We got together yesterday," Akira replied easily, "it's no big deal. I've liked him for a while now. I just finally got the chance to tell him."

"But he's..." If Morgana were human or had a human body, he would've done that weird thing humans do where they wave their arms around like fools in an attempt to summon words they either do not wish to say in fear of offending someone or simply cannot find in the sprawling expanse of human language. "He's Akechi."

"I know. That's why I like him."

"But _why_?"

"He's cute and smart."

" _And he's an asshole_."

"You're not wrong, but that's kind of the best part. The thrill of the chase and whatnot."

Morgana sighed, "I owe Ryuji an apology, I've misjudged him. _You're_ the biggest idiot in the Phantom Thieves."

The waiter with their check tried not to look so surprised that one of the teenagers was napping on the counter, but did so with little success. But they didn't acknowledge it verbally, so neither would Akira. He nudged Goro awake, enjoying every second of watching him blink slowly and rub the sleep out of his eyes. "We're going now. We can go to the bathhouse to wash up and then go right to bed if you'd like," Akira offered. Goro nodded quietly.

"Ugh. I do not want to be in a room where you two are naked together. Leave me at Leblanc," Morgana requested. Akira laughed and patted his head.

Akira led the way into the bathhouse, Goro trailing just a few steps behind him. Upon entry, a wave of heat settled over them like a heavy coat. Seeing as Goro was already wearing a trench coat, along with who knows how many coats of fur, this additional warmth came unwelcome. Underneath the extra layers, his shirt began to stick to his back with sweat. He had to stop himself from removing the wool hat for similar reasons.

“Out of curiosity,” Akira said casually as he handed over the 1,000¥ fee, “is there anyone else here right now?” Goro wondered if wrapping a towel around his head would be an effective disguise if they had company.

His shoulders relaxed when the employee told them they had the place to themselves. After a quick thank you, the pair slid off their shoes and entered the changing room. The moment they were alone Goro was quick to rip off his hat and coat. He grabbed a towel before starting to remove the rest of his clothes. If his sweater vest had been covered in shed cat fur yesterday, now the little honey-colored hairs were now as woven into the sweater as the pine green threads that made it up. Even several sheets of lint roller couldn’t save it at this point. Goro gingerly folded it and placed it in the cubby. His dress shirt followed, with him being extra careful not to make the buttonholes bigger with his claws. 

Getting out of his pants proved a bit more difficult. Them resting lower on his hips did nothing to ease the process. He always bought his pants with the intention of them being slim, but this was simply absurd. It took a lot of very pathetic shimmying to wriggle out of his iron pressed slacks and a lot of craning his neck to make sure Akira wasn’t watching him make a fool of himself. He wasn’t quite sure why he still bothered at this point.

Whatever the cause, for that same reason Goro walked backward until he nearly rammed into the table to grab a towel instead of simply turning around. He wrapped the towel around his waist, only turning around once he was sure it was securely tucked. Akira was already in a towel himself, fussing with items in his cubby.

“Um, Akira,” Goro said. The other boy turned around. Goro tilted his head to the side. “What are those for?”

Akira looked between the two large bottles he held separately from the items in his shower caddy. He mirrored Goro’s head tilting and arched an eyebrow. “It’s cat shampoo. You know, for your _cat tail_.”

As an unfriendly reminder of its invasive presence, the tail shifted and Goro’s towel came undone. It took a second of watching the white fabric fall at his feet before a startled meow escaped his throat unbidden and he tried to cover himself with his hands. This was, of course, hardly effective. He didn’t even want to look up to see where Akira’s eyes landed. He didn’t know what would make him madder, Akira overtly staring or feigning innocence by gazing up at the ceiling. Goro huffily swiped the towel up from the floor and put it in again. The moment he took his hands away it fell off again. He tried a third time but to no avail. With a frustrated growl, he gave up and turned on his heel to enter the bathing area. Whatever. It didn’t matter, right? He would be naked in the shower and the tub anyway. Akira’s footsteps followed behind him and his exposed behind.

While Goro had been here with Akira once before, there was something more uncomfortable about being naked alone with his boyfriend than being naked in a room of other equally naked people. That could likely be attributed to the absence of control over his changing physiology. Goro picked a stall, set his caddy down, and sat on the little stool. In the stall next to his, the water turned on. Akira hummed an unfamiliar tune while he presumably soaked himself, his smooth, low voice resonating in the echoey chamber. With a clawed hand, Goro started to do the same- minus the humming-, turning the knob for the hand shower. 

The water hit his skin and he fell off his stool with a yowl. He yowled again when his back connected with the tile floor. The stool was luckily pretty low to the ground, but it still hurt. Especially since he squished his tail. Above him he saw Akira’s head poke out, his dark curls turned into a soapy white mop. His eyes- not obscured by the glasses for once- flickered down for a fleeting moment. It was long enough for Goro to notice, and he cringed. Out of every awkward position he’d found himself in since transforming, this was the most compromising by far. Goro’s remaining dignity was swept down the drain with the still-running water.

“Not a fan of water, huh,” Akira said as if he wasn’t straining himself to avoid looking at Goro’s... _everything_ hanging out. The little glances did not go unnoticed, Goro saw his stormy eyes widen just a touch too much for his comfort and fought the childish impulse to look down or cover himself up.

Goro sat up and yanked his tail out from under him. The tip of it was damp. Gross. “You tell me. Aren’t you supposed to be the cat expert?”

Akira walked out of his stall to turn off the shower head in Goro’s, which gave the latter quite the view. Stupid Akira and his stupid butt making Goro think stupid gay things. “Morgana doesn’t mind baths, but I think he’s in the minority there,” Akira replied. He offered his hand to Goro, who reluctantly took it and let himself be pulled up. Goro slipped on the wet tile but Akira’s other hand reached out to catch him. Once he was sitting on the stool again Akira left him to stew in his embarrassment. “At least you aren’t taking an American-style shower,” Akira offered, “Ann says they leave the water running the entire time.” The irritated twitch of Goro’s tail conveyed exactly how he felt about that.

This time Goro turned the knob just slightly so that only a gentle trickle came out of the nozzle instead of a steady stream. He still flinched a little, but he didn’t end up on the floor, so that was already an improvement. It was just water. Nothing to be freaked out about there. At its current setting, the showerhead was totally ineffective for actually getting wet, but Goro decided he had to ease himself into it, to slowly remind his body that he was indeed more human than he was a cat. Who knew how much longer that would actually remain true. 

He just had too much hair to soak like this, so he turned the knob more. His ears twitched and his tail swooshed angrily behind him but Goro ignored both. He would not let his hair get greasy just because some cognitive demon decided to make a fool out of him. Once every inch of him was dripping with water, he turned off the shower. As he reached over to put it back in its holder, he licked water off of his arm unconsciously. Despite the sudden absence of hot water on his skin, he didn’t feel cold because of the constant heat in the room. 

He wasn’t sure if the cat or human shampoo would be the right choice for his hair, and he certainly didn’t want to ask Akira, so he skipped ahead to lathering thick shaving cream all over himself. Usually, he didn’t bother with his face since he never grew any facial hair anyway. Leftover paranoia from watching in horror as whiskers of varying lengths broke through his previously unblemished skin compelled Goro to cover it in white cream anyway. Some of the shaving cream got in his mouth, which he promptly spit out. Despite it being winter, he went full-body, not letting a single bit of human fur go untrimmed. It made him feel like he was partaking in some form of cat-ification prevention, however small and ultimately insignificant. He then scrubbed himself thoroughly with lavender-scented soap.

And then came the hair. Akira was already rinsing off, still humming a song Goro didn’t recognize. He probably showered so much faster because the lucky bastard didn’t have any reason to worry about becoming an animal. Imagine that. Goro waited quietly for Akira to turn the water off, taking in the sound of his voice floating around him. Despite the unfamiliarity, he got absorbed in the soft melody and tried to imagine what the accompaniment might sound like. Or what Akira’s singing voice might sound like. Even when his friends saw it fit to shout-sing children’s songs about laborers on railroads or wheels on buses (Goro shuddered thinking about cat buses), Akira never joined in on their obnoxious noise. Goro would take Ryuji and Morgana treating his cat ears like sentient microphones if it meant getting to hear their leader’s vocal stylings too. 

Two arms wrapped around Goro’s middle and he gasped. Akira’s chin rested on his shoulder. “Boop,” he said as he poked Goro’s nose, taking a clump of shaving cream off of it, “got your nose. Do you need help?”

 _No, of course I don’t need help, you imbecile, it’s just a shower. I take showers all the time like every other normal person does_. “I just wasn’t sure which shampoo to use because...you know. Cat ears.”

“Hm. I see.” Goro assumed the following noise was Akira pulling up a stool and taking a seat behind him. “Could you give me your shampoo?” Goro did so without looking back. Akira popped off the cap and squirted it into his hand. “So this is why you always smell so nice,” Akira commented innocently. Goro’s insides turned into slush. He blamed it on the heat.

Akira started running his fingers through Goro’s hair. Goro sucked in a shaky breath. Akira paused and Goro cursed himself. His self-loathing only grew when Akira softly said, “I’m sorry. I should’ve asked. Was that too much?”

Goro’s hands balled into fists at his side, his claws dug into his palms. Stupid stupid _stupid_ getting worked up because god forbid his literal boyfriend wanted to touch him. They already made out several times, he should be ready for this. But here he was, naked and spazzing out because the nice pretty boy who for some indiscernible reason _liked_ his sorry ass wanted to help him with his hair. He tried to force some words out of his mouth but found himself incapable of producing anything other than fucking cat sounds. 

Like the pathetic lump of affection-starved garbage he was, Goro whimpered sadly and turned around to bunt Akira’s chest. When he looked up at his boyfriend his face was blank. Goro was so frustrated he could scream. And he did, except it was a weird cat scream. He grabbed Akira’s wrist and placed his hand on his head. Hopefully, that got the point across.

“You didn’t just lose speech capabilities, right?” Akira asked, “I mean it’d be kinda funny if more Morgana could talk more than you, but only for a few minutes.”

“You wish,” Goro muttered. He bunted more incessantly because he still wasn’t being petted and that was a major problem. 

Akira shook his head, “I like our little talks, even when you pretend to be mean.” He took the hint and massaged Goro’s scalp, trained fingers kneading sweet shampoo into his roots. Goro’s tail quivered and he started purring. Akira took that as encouragement, pressing harder and increasing the intensity of Goro’s satisfied purs. The treatment started around his hairline, Akira being sure not to miss any of his bangs or the shorter layers framing his face, and worked its way down to the nape of his neck. Once his work was done Akira pressed a kiss there. He popped open the conditioner and did the same thing, each gentle motion putting Goro’s brains through another round in the blender. Which was good. All his brain ever did was hurt him by overthinking him into a fit. Turning off all the thoughts that normally ran rampant, if only temporarily, came as a rare relief. 

With his hands covered in the cat shampoo, Akira petted up and down the backs of Goro’s cat ears. Any lulls in Goro’s purring were resolved by scratching behind them, which also gave Akira a chance to lather the fluffy tufts back there. Come to think of it, he’d spent a while fussing with them. Goro leaned his head back with a questioning mewl to look up at Akira. The thief wore a barely-contained grin. 

“Hi there, pumpkin,” Akira greeted. 

“Hi,” Goro replied. He hated how high his voice came out. Since Akira had paused, Goro had enough brain functioning to rewind and replay what he just said. His brow furrowed. “P-...pumpkin?”

Akira shrugged and made a face more cat-like than anything Goro had done. At least as far as Goro knew. “Yeah. Like your shampoo,” Akira explained. “Would you prefer sweet potato, sugar pie, or peaches?” Goro prayed to whatever god or demon helped people like him that all the leftover soap and shaving cream aptly covered up how red he was. Especially when Akira opted to accent that last option with a hand below his tail. “Or should I just stick with honey.”

Scratch that part about Goro’s brain functioning. It’d been lovingly chopped into tiny pieces until it was just liquid sloshing around in his skull. He didn’t know what would be more embarrassing, dumbly meowing back at him, or what ended up happening: letting his brains spill out of his mouth in the form of painfully awkward word vomit. “Anything’s fine I-I suppose. It’s um...it’s food because you think I’m sweet- no that can’t be right, you want to eat me-?” In that instance, Goro dearly wished he could only meow. The metaphorical cat couldn’t grab his tongue if it only made cat noises to begin with. Why was he looking up at Akira again? Oh, right. “What were you doing with my hair?”

Miraculously, that distracted Akira from acknowledging his accidental vore slip-up. “Oh, my stall has a mirror. I’ll show you my work.” Without warning, Akira stood up and started pushing the stool- with Goro on it- into the other shower. The distressed cat noises returned and Goro tried to find a way to get his feet onto the stool without exposing himself. The mirror confirmed that he failed miserably. Besides that, it also presented him with the tufts of fur behind his ears gelled into sudsy spikes on either side of his head, making him look more ridiculous than he already did as a soapy catboy. Goro frowned.

“That’s very mature of you,” Goro deadpanned, his astounding first coherent expression of thought since Akira joined him. Akira just smiled and poured more conditioner into his hair.

“Aww, so you _don’t_ want me to give you a cool dinosaur tail?” Akira whined coyly. In the mirror, Goro watched Akira unfurl his tail to its full length, squirt a line of shampoo down it, and use his other hand to rub it in. The fact that he could _feel_ Akira’s fingernails was still really fucking weird. And the tail being as sensitive as it was proved very inconvenient. Goro waited until Akira wasn’t looking up before slowly shifting to a normal seated position with his legs close together.

Akira’s humming picked up again, this time with a tune Goro recognized. Goro closed his eyes and absorbed the sound. It brought forth memories of dimmed lights and sweet drinks, genuine smiles and pleasant conversation. Even with all those other people around, it felt like just the two of them in their own bubble, safe to be real and speak honestly. Hearing that song didn't change the fact that Goro was at his most vulnerable (physically at least. The engine room incident might never be topped), but it put him a bit more at ease. Some down-to-earth familiarity in a sea of magic-induced confusion. 

A hearty chuckle interrupted the song and broke Goro from his stupor. Before he could ask, Akira started humming again and his reflection pointed at Goro's cat ears. As Akira moved on to the refrain, they twitched along to the beat. The realization brought on a wave of embarrassment that pressed the ears against his head. 

“You're adorable,” Akira said. 

“How much longer is this going to take,” Goro grumbled, which just provoked Akira to muss up his hair even more. Growling did nothing to deter him. Given Akira’s rash decision to go out of his way to spend time with someone who tried to kill him, this did not come as a surprise but was a nuisance nonetheless. 

“Oh I’ve been done for a bit now,” Akira admitted, “You were just so cute, I didn't want to spray you.”

Goro’s face softened for just a moment before he summoned his grumpiest pout. “You’ll have to do it eventually. Just get it over with. I can take it.”

He could take it, but not exactly happily. Akira turned the showerhead up to maximum power and hosed him down. Goro ended up cowering in the corner of the booth, hissing throughout. When Akira turned off the water, Goro couldn’t see a thing with the wet bangs hanging in front of his eyes. Which made Akira’s arms sliding under him to scoop him up all the more frightening. On some primal impulse triggered by _touching touching **touching touching**_ Goro swatted blindly at the air in front of him with both his arms and legs. “Put me down!” he screeched.

"Sure thing, my sweet prince," Akira crooned. Goro felt Akira toss him into the air and for a brief terrifying moment, he thought this was the end. A watery death at the hands of a boy he tried to kill. Justice for one who's justice he did not in fact end. No, this justice was only beginning.

But that moment was, as said before, brief. Fleeting. Because he wasn't thrown any higher than one inch, and Akira caught him. Goro demanded an explanation. 

At least he meant to. This fucking status ailment reduced his accusatory tirade to something sounding vaguely like "mrrrowwwwow?" Maybe Akira should just drown him.

"I wasn't actually going to throw you in," Akira said, "it's disrespectful to get your hair wet in a sento." Goro wouldn't know. His mother always just told him to go somewhere while she entertained the scumbag of the day. She never told him what he was supposed to do.

Goro's mouth formed a small "o" and Akira slowly lowered him into the tub. He flinched violently when his big toe first touched the surface of the tub. This disease made no sense. He could fully submerge his head into a bowl of milk and take no issue with it, yet bathing gave him war flashbacks. The first time he went here with Akira, the hot water felt like a godsend washing over the labyrinth of knots in his back. If he'd had someone to massage him that would've been sublime, but that was a barrier he wasn't ready to cross. Especially naked. Funny how now the water wasn't helping ease his stress in the slightest, but the warmth of Akira's skin on his made it tolerable. He wondered if he could get away with pressing up against him. And later he'd insist it was just a stupid cat thing and not a stupid Goro-hoes-himself-out-for-validation thing.

"Do you think the tail counts as hair?" Goro asked, which was a stupid question because no Japanese tradition is going to account for cat people. 

"I don't think Japanese tradition accounts for cat people," Akira replied easily. Goro almost snapped at him to say well, of course, I knew that, idiot. 

He was in. Fully submerged. Once he got past the initial aversion to water, it was at least bearable. The thick clouds of humid steam kept him from seeing how much he looked like a drowned rat (or cat, he supposed) in the water's surface. The small blessings- things like how damn good getting pet felt and the adoration apparent in Akira's eyes- kept him from having a very justifiable mental breakdown, especially given the recent revelation that he didn't know how long he would be like this. 

When/if he turned back to normal, would he miss parts of it? The things that made him purr and triggered the loosening of the fear-forged shackles keeping him away from people, would there be a void where they once were? A return to dignity would be nothing to complain about but was it worth giving up the glimpses of ease amidst all the embarrassment. Goro shook his head to clear his thoughts. Thinking about it was pointless, whatever the result he would likely not have a choice. That seemed to be a running theme these past eighteen years.

Akira chuckling softly gave him an excuse to halt the introspection train for now. Goro put on his best frown before facing him. He felt like he'd found a new mantra for life as he growled, "What. Now."

"Irony," Akira began like he was about to analyze poetry instead of torture his boyfriend, "is a beautiful thing." Goro didn't like where this was going. Scratch that analysis bit, Akira went full Shakespeare recitation. The dramatic bitch. "You resemble my dearest companion Mona, in not just physicality, but also the peculiar shit you are overtaken with the desire to do. And yet, just now you provoked a contrary image."

"I am going to dunk your head into the tub if you don't just get to your fucking point," Goro threatened. If his tail wasn't drowning at the moment it would be swooshing testily behind him.

"That's disrespectful."

"So are you."

"Hm. Anyway, you kinda looked like a dog trying to dry itself off by shaking just now. You sent water everywhere. It was cute."

Goro just stared at Akira to try and fathom what he was meant to gain from that astute observation. The answer was absolutely nothing. ...Ok, he lied. Akira was paying attention to him. He squashed the immediate mushiness he felt at the idea with cold hard logic. Of course, Akira was paying attention to him, there was no one else to pay attention too. Unless he felt like watching steam, which sounded terribly dull. Goro was a spectacle in every sense of the word. Apparently Goro also probably flung water into his face, another reason for him to hold the other boy's focus. Goro wanted his inner monologue to shut the hell up and let him bathe in peace.

He felt like a tea bag steeping in the hot water. Except instead of putting the drinker at ease or keeping them awake this tea just got fur in their mouth. Yuck. No one wanted to drink that. 

Goro drifted to the walls and slumped into a seated position. He should've brought a hair tie so he could slide in deeper. The owners of this place wouldn't appreciate him using his claws to keep himself from sinking under. Pairs of harsh scratch marks weren't exactly trendy interior design now. Or ever. Getting sued for inexplicable property damage and showing up in court like this would probably end with him getting sent to a highly classified government lab to be relentlessly poked at instead of simply being fined.

He didn't notice when Akira sat down next to him, probably because the other boy didn't have anything smart to say for once. Good riddance, Goro would rather be oblivious to the peculiarities of his own behavior than have them teasingly brought to light. They sat there in silence letting their skin soak up the heat. Goro closed his eyes and just tried to turn his anxiety off. It didn't work. He needed a tranquilizer dart right up his ass for that job.

Akira scooted close enough to him that his thigh was pressed against Goro's under the water at some point. He didn't seem to feel like acknowledging it, so Goro let it be as well. His eyelids started growing heavy, were he more lucid he would've laughed at the irony. The cat instinct to hate water had lost in battle to the cat instinct to just conk out at random times. The combination of steam and his dwindling consciousness made the warm creams of the bathhouse blend together into a series of blobs blended together. Akira in his periphery served as the sole outlier, a cotton ball of black atop a blur of pink. Hopefully, Goro’s head wouldn't fall forward and drown him when he finally dozed off. 

He felt his head being gently pushed by unseen forces to rest on something to his side. This pillow wasn't soft (though it was more plush than the tile floor behind him or the watery death ahead of him) but it was warm. A wet hand pushed his bangs out of his eyes with the utmost tenderness, and an equally wet kiss pressed to his forehead. Goro knew what it probably was but still felt too tired to pry his eyes open long enough to see. If he looked now and saw that raw softness, he would be up the rest of the night shaking with repressed delight that it was directed towards him. The sensation of a hand petting his head lulled him into a deep sleep.

" _Go....r...ro._ " The voice above him seemed distant, far off on some unreachable plane. Unreachable as in he was still really fucking tired and didn't want to face his fucked up reality just yet. He murmur-meowed something indecipherable to humans and cats alike and blindly swatted a hand at nothing in the water.

"Goooorroooooo." Now the voice was just about right in his ear. Goro squeezed his eyes tighter shut and nestled closer to his pillow person. 

"Goro, you're bright red. It's time for us to get out before we overheat." He clung to the person he was now unfortunately awake enough to identify as Akira. "I thought you didn't like the water." Nope. Still not responding. "Fine. I'll just carry you again."

Not being awake enough to yell at him yet meant Goro made a sound like the Morgana bus running head-on into a shadow when Akira hoisted him up, this time hoisting Goro's whole naked body over his shoulder. Goro felt his soggy tail clinging to his leg like a massive hairy caterpillar crawling up his calf. So this was why cats hate water. Because afterward, their long fur felt fucking disgusting. And he only had the tail and ears, full-body must be a pain. He gained some sympathy for Morgana. 

Akira didn't put him down even as he crouched down to grab both of their shower caddies. Goro's toes just barely brushed the ground. His head was dangling just in front of Akira's ass, and he knew his own gluteus maximus was right at Akira's eye level. If the other boy touched it right now, Goro decided he was getting scratched.

Akira set him down on his feet once they were in the changing room again with their towels. Goro sighed and started to dry himself off while heading over to his locker. At this point he just wanted underwear on, his hair was too wet for him to put on a shirt without getting it soaked. As he slid his boxers up his legs, he came to a horrible realization. If he thought wet hair was a problem, try three feet of wet hair that can move. If he wanted to put on anything, he'd have to dry the tail. Goro screamed behind sealed lips.

At home, he had a solid routine he always went through to keep himself looking his sharpest in spite of all his crippling depression and detrimental habits. A well-oiled facade-producing machine, per se. Immediately after showering he thoroughly dried his hair and applied product to keep it tame. That way even with all the squirming he did when restless at night, it would still be salvageable the next morning. If he neglected to dry it properly, any style he attempted would not hold. His hair was naturally poofy, though he'd die before letting anyone see it in its untamed state. Any ruffling turned it into a cloud, thus explaining why Akira had been able to disguise him so quickly on their first cafe outing in the summer.

There was no hairdryer in sight, and if his tail or the ears were anything like his natural hair, he would look like someone had stuck his head and his ass into a cotton candy machine. Goro resigned himself to the fate of being a sugar food and did his best to dry it off with the towel. Just as he predicted, that upped the frizz factor. Ugh.

"Holy shit." Goro jumped a solid six feet into the air and the fur on his tail stood up on edge, making it look even bigger. Joker’s aptitude for sneaking carried over to the real world it seemed. How wonderful. Goro whipped around to glare at him. Akira had gained immunity to his false nastiness and remained undeterred by it. He cupped Goro's tail gently in his hands, petting it softly until the fur fell flat again. "You're so...poofy."

"I'm well aware," Goro snapped, "it's quite inconvenient actually. Not that you would know." He yanked his tail with ease from Akira's loose hold. With his hand wrapped around it, it looked like a poodle's leg. It would be more useful if it were a leg, so he could kick people from behind. That would make for some interesting combat choices.

He dismissed his rogue musings for the absurd notions they were. That would not be more useful at all, it would weigh him down and be harder to hide. And it'd be extremely disturbing. Clearly, he still needed sleep, and Akira shouldn't have been such a terrible stationary pillow. Goro turned back towards his cubby with a huff and went to put on his underwear.

As he was holding it, his finger slipped through the opening in the front. A slit meant to accommodate for a protrusion. He looked at his clawed hands and considered ripping a matching incision on the other side to stick his tail through, but when this personal hell blew over he didn't want all his clothes to have tail holes in them. So came the question: suck it up and buy new underwear when that time came? Or use the already existing hole? He wanted to rip his sopping wet hair out, even the matter of how to wear his fucking undergarments was a miniature dilemma now.

"You could just make a hole you know," Akira suggested while Goro was putting on his underwear backwards and trying to shove three feet of fluff through a hole meant for...smaller. Goro didn't even bother facing him this time, he tersely replied, "I'm not ruining my clothes on the account of something that could potentially be resolved within the next hour. That's wasteful."

"You know it's not gonna be resolved in the next hour." To some extent, Goro was aware of how the cat ears and tail displayed his emotions for all knowledgeable cat owners to see without his consent. He did not, however, understand how they conveyed all his existential internal tirades about forevers and eternities and the inevitable march closer and closer to the inevitable chokehold of full catdom squeezing strangled meows out of his throat.

Okay, he highly doubted Akira had all the details figured out- especially that last bit- even if his cat ears were twitching in morse code or some equally improbable shit. "Maybe later," Goro settled on because Akira probably didn't _want_ to hear all the details he hadn't figured out, because they were so clearly plucked from the mind of a highly unstable person.

"Unless we get an expiration date, when I ask you again later it'll still be possible that it resolves itself in the next hour," Akira retorted, "we just don't know." Goro ignored him and moved onto his pants in spite of the tightness he now felt. He should've just used the claws, underwear isn't that expensive anyway, even for someone who spends what little money they do have on overpriced clothes and the barest of bare essentials. His pride told him to suck it up until the pitch blackness of the night in the attic properly concealed his acceptance of his folly.

Goro pulled out his phone camera to check on his hair even though he'd be wearing a hat and only walking a solid five steps across the street to Leblanc. Hey, he could be seen by another human being in those five steps, he had to be prepared. If that person happened to be Okumura by some particularly odd coincidence, he could easily be mistaken for her from the back- not accounting for the height difference and the fact that she would never be wearing a big trenchcoat to hide her non-existent cat tail from the rest of the non-persona user world. Granted, Goro never thought he would be either. He wished he knew what type of shadow that was who did this so he would know to avoid at all costs in the future. Because this sucked ass.

For once, the sudden hand on his shoulder did not make Goro jump out of his skin and long to never return to the bindings of its fleshy prison. He tilted his head to the side to nuzzle it. Akira laughed, "I think you should spend our day off living your best cat life."

"Mrrrrrrwhat does that mean?" Goro mumbled. Being tired and being touched both put a damper onto his alertness. The combination was deadly, flooding the deep moats he'd built around himself and carrying him over to where Akira waited on the other side with open arms.

"Sleeping and eating. Both things you don't do enough of." Goro's reply- or lack thereof- was a soft noncommittal hum. His eyes felt droopy again. "Am I going to have to carry you home?"

"It's only five steps away," Goro replied. He'd die before outright saying he liked being hauled around. Akira seemed to get the memo in some way shape or form. He crouched down with his back turned to Goro and waited expectantly for him to do...something. Goro hadn't the faintest idea what. "What are you doing."

"Get on my back. That way I can use both of my hands to carry our stuff and open doors," Akira explained. Ah. Okay, simple enough. 

After some hesitation, Goro leaped up onto Akira's shoulders. Which sent both of them hurtling to the floor. Goro somersaulted over Akira and slammed his leg into a row of lockers, Akira slipped on the wet floor due to the sudden added weight and promptly fell on his face. Goro moaned and arched his back. Akira's face was upside down above him, nose reddened by its sudden contact with hard tile, but laughing nonetheless. "I said get on my back, Goro. Not straddle my neck with your thighs."

"Don't flatter yourself. I would only ever do that to strangle you."

"So you _didn't_ mean to strangle me. You like me."

How many times had they kissed again? "I don't. Too tired."

"Too tired to like me or kill me?" Akira asked with a grin that already ate several mountains of shit prior to appearing on his face.

"Shut up and carry me before I change my mind about strangling you," Goro warned. Akira kissed the tip of his nose and got back onto his feet. He held out a hand for Goro to take and pulled him up, the latter awkwardly trying not to scratch him while still holding on tight.

As promised, Akira carried him back. If the employee at the entrance looked at them, Goro didn't see. His face was buried in the crook of Akira's neck, absorbing the smell of cheap convenience store brand soap and the minerals they'd both soaking in. If Sojiro gave them a weird look, Goro didn't notice that either because he'd just discovered gold in the form of a hint of his own pumpkin shampoo lurking beneath the surface of the other two scents.

Akira crouched down next to the bed and rolled Goro off of his back. The detective laid down on his side and was pretty tempted to fall asleep just like that, still fully clothed. Not that Akira would ever allow it, of course. He let the other boy gently pull off all the layers of clothing, slightly damp as they were from the water clinging to his skin. Akira parted, presumably to get him some sort of pajamas, but on some dumb tired impulse Goro's hand reached out to make him stay.

Warmth filled the previously empty space next to him and he felt Akira pressing soft kisses into his hair. Akira pulled the covers over both of him and whispered into Goro's ear just as he lost consciousness.

" _Sweet dreams honey_."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, kudos and comments make my day
> 
> Also, follow me on twitter [right here](https://twitter.com/3muske_tears?lang=en). I talk about Goro


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Goro and Akira join Ryuji for fishing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a little on the shorter side simply because I have been preparing my fics for Soft Goro Week, which starts on July 13th, so look out for all of those! Disclaimer: I adore Ryuji Sakamoto with all of my heart but he is a beautiful dumbass and Goro Akechi is a little bitch boy.

When the sun seeping through the windows drew Goro from his catnap, he took notice of two things. His human pillow had somehow escaped without his knowledge, nothing short of a miracle given what a light sleeper he usually was. The void of body heat left him feeling cold, even though Akira had courteously pulled the heavy blankets over him before leaving. But they weren’t the primary source of the weight on his shoulder. That came from the same horrid little creature currently ghosting his face with its fine whiskers. Goro cracked his dull red eyes open to meet clear blue.

The yawn he released upon stretching out his legs turned into a sneeze with Morgana’s whiskers tickling his nose. It was dainty and petite, like a little bell chime. It shook his body like a mallet on a gong. “You sound like a kitten,” Morgana observed with cheeky mirth.

“Mmmmrrrrrr’mmmmeow not a caaaaaat,” Goro mumbled, the credibility of his claim greatly hindered by him meowing mid-sentence. Surely just a side effect of early morning drowsiness, nothing more. Absolutely not an indicator that he might be full of shit. 

He propped himself up onto his elbows and realized he’d been sleeping backward, his head resting at the foot of the bed. Well, no wonder Akira left, from the looks of it Goro might’ve been nearly sitting on his face. Maybe he was sparing Goro some humiliation for once. Wait. “Where’s Akira?”

“He went out to get something, he didn’t say what. But that means I’m stuck with cat-sitting duty.” Morgana got right in Goro’s personal space so their noses almost touched. “So don’t cause any trouble!” Goro felt a little itch and baby-kitten-sneezed right in Morgana’s face.

It seemed like a good idea to change clothes before proceeding to the lower level where Sojiro or customers may be present, but he couldn’t bring himself to undress under the scrutiny of a magical talking cat. If anyone could provide him with some lovely intel on his body that he most certainly did not wish to be informed of, it had to be Morgana. In just his boxers with a bundle of clothes and his toothbrush under his arm, Goro crept down the stairs on his toes and peaked his head out into the cafe. Only to realize he was a dumb fuck for doing so because if there was anyone around they would immediately see his ears. Goro swore under his breath. But no one was there yet anyway (at least in his line of sight, Sojiro could very well be brewing a cup in the back) so Goro swung around the wall and locked himself in the bathroom.

The dastardly combination of hat hair, no access to his hair products, and a good night’s backward sleep made it look like the hair-loss gene lurking in his DNA had decided to suddenly render him completely bald at the ripe young age of 18, and the hair now atop his shiny head was just a massive hairball. Just _maybe_ he could manage it a little with a brush, but he doubted Akira even owned one given the state of his own mass of curls. 

He went through his normal routine to the best of his ability to feign some semblance of normalcy. The facade was repeatedly cracked by the fangs present among his perfect white teeth and the whole tail dilemma that came with the simple act of wearing pants. Goro decided to try something new today, instead of hiding his tail under his jacket he would just stuff the entire thing in his pants. That way the waistband could actually rest at its proper height. It was very tight, but he didn't feel like his pants were going to fall down at any moment, so he took it as an improvement. Small victories were keeping him mostly sane.

But sanity did nothing to prevent the incredible fright Akira gave him standing right outside the bathroom door. Goro might have squeaked very loudly. "Oops. I didn't mean to scare you," Akira said, "sorry about that."

"What makes you think you scared me?" Sometimes Goro thought his instinct defensiveness made him look like an idiot. He was right. He quickly moved to change the subject. "Where have you been?"

"Oh! I got you something." Akira shuffled through a little plastic bag he had with him and pulled out a black and white striped collar with a round golden bell. "Here."

All the nasty little voices in Goro's head that usually supplied all his self-loathing thoughts paused their duties to turn his head into an echo chamber of _what the fuck_. Was this a sex thing? Did Akira want to have kinky catboy sex? Goro wouldn't even know what to _say_ if he asked. Not only had he _never had sex before and would probably get very quickly overwhelmed_ , but Akira's brief earlier mention of him supposedly being in heat likely brought on implications he did not know or have control over.

"What is this for?" Goro's best eyes-narrowed skeptical face was very much counteracted by how high and strained his voice sounded in his own massive fucking ears.

"So I don't lose you."

Goro scoffed. "I'm not some brainless pet you need to keep on a leash. You insult me."

Akira revised his statement, “It’s so I can find you if you get kidnaped by evil scientists who wanna know your catboy secrets.” 

While that was a good point...“I could just scream. You should know from the Metaverse that I am very good at screaming.” _Phrasing, Goro_. _I thought you didn't want it to be a sex thing_.

“Yeah, but what if they gag you. You squirming around and jingling makes more noise anyway,” Akira countered.

Goro suppressed a particularly feral growl and snatched the collar from Akira's hand. He secured it around his neck, undoing the top two buttons of his shirt to accommodate. "There. Are you satisfied?"

"Awww it's cute," Akira ruffled Goro's hair and booped his nose, "and so are you."

"Tch. Whatever." Goro made his way back upstairs without speaking further.

He only made it three steps before Akira helpfully commented, "Your ass is... I don't know how to describe it. _Pulsating?_ Kinda like those slime things in the Metaverse, I guess." He paused a moment before adding, "You stuffed your tail into your pants."

"Thank you for your observations, Akira. And for comparing me to a disgusting creature that oozes gunk and spews sludge from its massive pores. I really appreciate it."

"You know that’s not what I meant. This is an intervention. I'm cutting a tail slot for you." Akira passed by him, of course making sure to brush a hand over the back of his leg. Goro wanted to take out his tail and use it to strangle him. The stupid little bell jingled with each bouncy step he made back into the attic. Just as Goro reached the top of the stairs, Akira reappeared behind him, his voice making Goro jump. “Hold still.”

“You are _not_ cutting any holes in my clothes!” Goro exclaimed. 

He heard Akira pop the cap off of something. “Not with you still in them, of course.” A soft tip pressed itself to the base of Goro’s tail and drew an X. “I’m just marking where to cut for later. Trust me, it’ll be more comfortable. You’ll thank me later.”

“I’m sure you speak from loads of experience,” Goro muttered, but he already had a big ink X on his pants so further resistance was futile. Akira laughed and kissed the back of his neck.

“Maybe not, but we’re going fishing. I don’t think you want to spend hours sitting on your tail."

Goro did recall Akira saying something about spending time with Ryuji at some point last night, though he was distracted and exhausted for most of it. It would be an interesting experience, that much was certain, given both Ryuji's complete inability to be subtle and Goro's newfound conspicuousness. If anyone were likely to accidentally blurt out that Goro was part-cat at the moment, it would be Sakamoto Ryuji.

"I suppose you have a point." Goro undid his belt with a heavy sigh. "But I'll only let you ruin my clothes on the condition that we procure the funds to get me new ones. Not dragging your teammates into it, just the two of us in Mementos."

Akira hummed in agreement. "Sounds good to me. I know you're a reliable navigator too." Akira gasped softly, "Do you think having cat senses will make you even _better_?" Goro was torn between melting at the praise and elbowing him for that last bit.

"Wait, how do you plan on getting anywhere without me?" Morgana's sudden interjection made Goro startle in the middle of pulling his pants down.

Goro cleared his throat and recovered quickly, "I have my ways. And about three years of practice."

When Goro straightened up and handed his khakis to Akira to be maimed, Morgana was looking at him. Not at his bare legs, but at his face. "You were navigating the Metaverse alone when you were fifteen?" Now Akira was looking at him too, biting his lip as he reached for a pair of scissors. Goro hated it. He wanted to slap both of them for making those stupid sad faces at him.

"Not all of us get sent magical cat creatures to guide us," Goro spat, "some of us have to fend for ourselves." His attempt to force them away with harshness only made their fucking pity grow. Goro's tail swished angrily in the air behind him. To some extent, it was as though he was a stray living on the street and Akira got taken in by a loving owner. Who happened to be a cat. And he got a father figure. Goro wished he didn't get set off so easily, innocent remarks infecting his faux bitterness with boiling jealousy. Akira said he would relax today but he was already fucking that up.

"Can I have my pants back?" he asked, the question killing two birds with one stone by hopefully relieving a little of the tension his inferiority complex created and getting them closer to Akira's planned relaxation. Akira made the final snip and Goro watched a sliver of fabric float to the floor. He was committed now.

As much as he hated to admit it, Akira was right. It just felt like he was wearing pants normally, and the slit Akira cut was just the right size. He hadn't realized how much he missed high waisted pants these past two days.

Akira's phone buzzed and he picked up. Goro wasn't sure if it was his more sensitive ears or Ryuji's normal noisiness that made the other side of the conversation completely audible to him.

"Hey, man. When do you think you'll be in Ichigaya?"

After putting on his outerwear/disguise, Goro followed Akira downstairs. Seeing as Akira was occupied, Morgana chose the top of Goro's head as his ride and settled right between his ears. "Oh no," Goro said, "you are not using me as a perch."

Morgana scoffed, "As if I'd ever want to spend the day attached to you." He leaned over so his head hung in front of Goro's face. " _I_ will be gardening with Haru today."

"How exactly do you plan on getting to her rich girl penthouse? You're a cat."

"How do you travel in Mementos? You're not a bus," Morgana retorted.

Goro frowned and didn't grace the notion that being a bus was an advantage with a response. That couldn't possibly make him feel anything other than dysphoric. Great, now his mentally ill brain was dreaming up sick visions of both what he would look like as a bus and how it would feel to be a bus. "She's growing catnip, you know."

"Is that so?" How the fuck did his little cat face smirk. He must've learned from Joker. "I'll be sure to bring some back for you."

Akira came to his rescue, hanging up with Ryuji and prying Morgana from Goro's scalp. "Hey, no smuggling cat drugs without me," Akira teased, "especially if Haru needs them for her tea. Let's go, I don't wanna keep Ryuji waiting too long."

The train to Ichigaya was crowded, likely due to a surplus of people commuting to work. Being squeezed in a tiny car full of other bodies put Goro extremely on edge. Not that he wasn't used to Tokyo subways by now, but usually the only threat was being recognized and then asked to take a picture. Now if someone bumped into him and felt the anomaly under his coat, he was essentially fucked. And it was _loud_. That wasn't unusual, but now his ears were much more sensitive and he felt a headache coming on as they all chattered about their petty problems and perfect little lives and Goro just wanted to slide down onto the grime-coated floor and cover his ears but he didn't think his hands would even be big enough to do much of anything and

He sucked in a shaky breath at the sensation of a hand over his. Thin jagged scratch marks ran down the pole he'd been holding onto. "Hey," Akira said gently, "are you okay?"

"Sensory overload, that's all." Goro let Akira shift him so his back was against the other boy's chest and loving arms were wrapped around his middle. It didn't make the noise stop, but he felt safe in the embrace. Goro resisted the urge to shred more metal out of stress by clutching his throbbing forehead.

Akira softly informed him that Morgana slipped away at the stop nearest to Haru while Goro was having his anxiety moment. He didn't phrase it like that, but that was Goro's takeaway. By the time they arrived at their destination, Goro was really itching to get down on all fours and weave through the crowds as quickly as he could. The arm around his waist was quite possibly the only thing restraining him, nerves having eviscerated his prior reservations about giving in to the temptation.

Ryuji was leaning against a telephone pole playing a pointless game on his phone when they made it to the pond. Like the heathen he was, he had the volume on, no headphones. Goro wondered if he could blame swatting it out of Ryuji’s hands on him being a cat. The blonde didn’t notice them until Akira loudly cleared his throat. His eyebrows jumped the same height Goro’s whole body had the several times he’d been caught off guard since waking. Come to think of it, why the fuck were Ryuji’s eyebrows so small.

“Hey, man! What’s bonkin’?” Ryuji greeted, immediately shoving his phone in his hoodie pocket and giving Akira a crisp high five. Goro was no expert in friendship rituals, but he was pretty sure high-fives usually weren’t forceful enough to make the recipient stagger back. Ryuji’s acknowledgement of Goro was far less enthusiastic. Which was fine, Goro would rather not be slammed into the pavement by Ryuji’s passionate displays of bro culture. “Hey, Akechi. How’s uh...you know. The thing.”

“ _Splendid_ ,” Goro replied, “I actually think it’s starting to grow on me.” False. True in the very _very_ literal sense, but otherwise as false as false could be. Hopefully, Ryuji’s sarcasm comprehension was higher than his reading comprehension. Futaba and Akira’s fondness for it _had_ to have had some effect. Goro mentally rewound to a few seconds before Ryuji slapped his boyfriend’s hand clean off of his wrist. “What is…” the metaphorical cat yanked his tongue hard enough to momentarily shut down all neural connections to the muscles in his mouth, “ _bonking_?”

“Uh. It’s just an expression, dude,” Ryuji explained as if _Goro_ was the known dumbass here, “like ‘what’s up.’ Nothing all that deep.”

Goro fully understood that referring to people as “dude” regardless of how friendly he was with them was just a part of Ryuji’s pattern of speech. That didn’t make it less odd to hear himself addressed that way, like the term itself was a physical clothing article Ryuji gave everyone to wear regardless of if he had the right size. “Ah.”

Whatever mental hardware gave Akira the patience to listen to people's problems for hours on end also equipped him with the ability to read the room really well. Didn't do much to cure his chronic dorkiness though. He slung an arm over each of their shoulders and initiated some sort of group huddle. “Let’s go bonk some fish.” Goro didn't have the energy to argue as to why that made no logical sense. Mostly because his fucking reflection didn't make sense right now either. 

The entry fee barely made a dent in Akira’s seemingly endless supply of cash, though Goro couldn’t help but feel it was a bit overpriced. Especially since he was just going to sit there watching Akira shapeshift into a frat boy. He simply didn’t have the patience for fishing, which was really something if _Ryuji_ of all people actively invited Akira to do it with him. Goro’s lack of participation was definitely not on the account of his complete lack of skill. That would be absurd.

Akira and Ryuji dragged over three crates and got their supplies while Goro trailed behind like a lost baby duckling, imprinting on the first friendly face in its sight. Goro wondered if the Metaverse had any duck spells. With the temporary rats and longer-term semi-cats, it didn’t seem like too much of a stretch. He kinda felt like he was waddling now with how small and unnoticeable he tried to be. The crate he seated himself on was uneven, rocking back and forth under Goro’s weight. It was going to drive him insane. Goro leaned forward to at least steady it and observe the ripples in the water. 

Goro rationalized that these crates were going to shit anyway and no one would sue him for property damage if he used one as a scratching post. It was either the box or his own knuckles, the decision wasn’t hard. The little scraping noise reached Akira’s ears and the corner of his mouth quirked up. Goro glared at him. “My fingers were cold.”

Being a major doofus, Akira nearly dropped his bait when holding his hands up in surrender. He caught it though, and a big dorky smile spread across his cheeks. “I never said anything. Why didn’t you bring a book if you weren’t going to fish?”

The lack of a book wasn’t from a lack of _trying_ to find one. In the same bag Akira had produced the collar from, Goro also found four new books, all small enough for him to bring with. “Because all you had were _cat books_ ,” Goro seethed, “and one of them was about _fucking mating patterns_.”

“I thought it might be helpful and informative for you!” Akira said while Ryuji mouthed, “ _mating patterns?_ ” and promptly lost it.

“Aki-” Ryuji couldn’t make it through the name without wheezing and choking on his own spit, “why the hell did you-” A sharp tug on his rod mercifully spared Goro from Ryuji Sakamoto of all people discovering that he was biologically diagnosable as really fucking horny for the time being.

“Oh shit!” Ryuji stood up and started trying to reel in the catch. Akira leaned forward and started chanting his name, softly enough to not cause a disturbance to other patrons but loud enough for Goro to find it irritating. But Akira nudged his leg and gave him this stupid pleading face like a pet begging for scraps. Or in this case, for Goro to act like a teenage boy and loosen up a bit. With a tired sigh Goro joined in with minimal enthusiasm, but the spark in Akira’s eyes made him feel less like a complete buffoon.

“Yeah, Ryuji! You’ve got this!” Akira exclaimed.

Watching the dark silhouette move around under the water triggered something in Goro’s brain, the same thing that made Akira’s moronic laser pointer trick work on him prior. Goro’s mouth started watering just watching the little sucker squirm. Fuck. At this rate he’d start drooling, then the winter chill just had to drop a few degrees and he’d have a gross saliva icicle growing off of his chin.

Ryuji’s line snapped in two and Goro watched in some bastardized form of horror as the fish escaped. “What the fuck was that about?” Goro asked, “You had it in your grasp!”

“Whaddaya mean?! I don’t see you doing any better. You don’t even have a rod!” Ryuji shouted back. 

Hot breath blew against Goro’s cheek and he heard a low, sultry whisper. “ _All this arguing, it’s like Morgana never left_.”

Goro growled and shooed Akira away. With his fussy movements shifting the collar, it sounded like an angry Christmas. “Oh fuck off! Do you let _Morgana_ make out with you?” he squawked.

The busted rod fell from Ryuji’s hand and clattered to the ground. Goro and Akira both turned to face him in unison. The elasticity and expressiveness of his face allowed his eyes to widen to the point where they resembled those of a puppet on a children’s program. His jaw dropped down so far that it made contact with his collarbone. “Bro…YOU _KISSED **AKECHI**?!_”

Akira smiled innocently. “I'm gonna go get a new line. I think I'm proficient enough to fix this myself. I'll be back.” And he just left Goro there with Ryuji gaping at him. Goro longed to be a worm, capable of wiggling away discreetly or being trampled out of his misery by a worn sneaker.

Being stared at made Goro squirm. He had to turn away. How the bloody shit did he ever do interviews in front of a live audience if one dumbass blonde’s scrutiny made him so antsy. Goro wrapped his arms around his middle for warmth and to close himself off. He started comparing the sizes of the dark flecks splattered on the pavement. He came to the astounding conclusion that they were all incredibly tiny and no one gave a shit if one was a sixteenth of a millimeter smaller than the other. 

Goro was completely fine with both of them remaining silent until their mutual mediator returned. But Goro rarely got what he wanted, recently due to the efforts of the Phantom Thieves and his continued association with them and their chronic idiocy. “So...is getting glocked in the face something Akira’s into or…?” Ryuji asked. 

“I don’t know why he likes me either!” Goro snapped. Ryuji held his hands up and scooted as far away from Goro as he could without falling off of his seat. 

A chilly breeze picked up over the lake, sending stray trash down the endless city streets beside them. Goro tried not to think of the flying plastic bags as scurrying mice. The mere notion could overcome him with the urge to break into a four-legged sprint through busy Tokyo to chase them down. He squeezed his eyes shut; he couldn’t be tempted if he couldn’t see the faux prey. Ryuji probably thought he was insane, sitting there silent with his eyes closed. In all fairness, he already had plenty of reasons to think Goro was insane, starting with the revenge scheme and ending with the maniacal screeching. Goro yanked his hat further down his face and rested his forehead in his hands.

Apparently Ryuji absolutely refused to take a hint ever in his life, even if that hint came from a person who tried to kill him and his best friend. When Goro picked up on his voice again, it was significantly louder than it had been before. “Uhhhhkechi? You good over there? Got a headache or somethin’?”

The wind blew directly at their faces, chill nipping at Goro’s nose and cheeks. He wished he’d brought his scarf, both to protect him from the elements and to give his fidgety fingers some tassels to fiddle with. “Ya know what always helps me when I’m feeling down?” Ryuji asked. Goro had no intention of answering him. Despite having his eyes shut, Goro could _feel_ Ryuji looking at him expectantly, two earnest eyes like small children incessantly poking him and asking why the diddly fuck nuggets he had a tail. “I’ll tell you: Meat.”

Goro must have been spending far too much time in Kurusu Akira’s loving clutches because his mind strayed away from the dictionary and culinary definition just a tad. When it got back on track, his stomach emitted a low rumble likely not audible to human ears. Great, he had been gifted the fantastic superpower of knowing when he was pining after food slightly earlier than normal. Thank you, Metaverse, very cool. 

Ryuji continued somewhat dreamily, like a boy-crazy anime waifu fawning over her sexy mysterious senpai. “Oh, man...nothing makes me happy like entering a not-too-pricey restaurant and just taking in the smell of all that meat sizzling on the grill. The best is when you get a counter seat, then you’re right there with all the chefs, watching them dump on all the seasoning and flip those perfect little patties.” Were this miniature monologue not about meat, Goro would have thought Yusuke had punted Ryuji’s spirit right out of his punk-jock body and declared himself the new host. Ryuji sighed and Goro wanted to kick and scream and throw a fit because now his mouth was watering again. “And the best part is when you sink your teeth into the first bite of steak and all the meat juice is in your mouth and ohhh…” Goro wondered if Akira had also once been subject to Ryuji’s oddly descriptive meat talks or if this was a unique hell only Goro had to endure. 

And even once his protein fantasy was over _he just kept talking_. “I mean, I dunno if it’ll help with a headache, but food is always good. Do you even like meat? I know you like pancakes-”

Goro felt like a passenger in his own fleshy/fluffy vessel as he watched it replace his snappy comment (the one that came to mind was “I will not hesitate to push you in”) with irritated meowing along the lines of “Mrrnnngnya!” 

The two metaphorical children representing Ryuji’s stare who’d been previously poking Goro decided to try inserting their grubby fingers directly into his eyeballs for sport. Heat rose up to his cheeks, nullifying the cold a bit but doing nothing to make them less rosy. Apparently he was five years old now because he pulled his hat down over his red face and his stupid traitorous mouth. Maybe his dumbass cat brain thought he could hide his whole body in it if he tried hard enough.

Ryuji muttered some curses under his breath. “Shit. You can’t do that. If it’s not loose on the top then everyone can totally see the effin’ cat ears. Here lemme-”

At the sensation of fingers ghosting the crown of his head without warning, Goro recoiled and let out a startled squeal. This was so fucking embarrassing, he was just making a complete fool out of himself, and this damned ailment already did that quite enough. And then it got even worse, he felt himself _leaning in_. Goro stared at an undefined point of nothingness in the endless space ahead of him as he pressed his whole fucking cat ear against Ryuji’s hovering hand. He couldn’t seem to stop himself, but he could still pray to the Egyptian cat deities that Ryuji did _not did not did **nooooot**_ start petting him.

The cat deities said, “Fuck you, Akechi. You’ve never believed in a god in your life and you expect us to help you? Also, you’re an awful bastard and you’ve killed people. Call this divine retribution. Suffer, you slut for affection.” Goro couldn’t argue because 1) they were figments of his imagination and 2) they were absolutely correct. As Ryuji awkwardly patted him and told him in a shaky hesitant voice to chill the eff out, Goro couldn’t help but think ‘ _why am I such a fucking whore_.’

Of course, it was then that Akira— known for being the largest facilitator of Goro’s desperate behavior— decided to finally come back. Goro didn’t see him, he knew by the sound of nimble footsteps and the feeling of a hand on his back soon after. “Glad you two are getting along,” Akira said with such an intense deadpan that Goro couldn’t figure out if he was teasing them or was genuinely pleased that Goro proved himself capable of positive interaction with others. Eureka, he _could_ in fact be domesticated.

One scratch where the tail met his spine broke the thin thread keeping him from erupting into rumbling purrs beyond his control, even with several layers of fabric between his skin and Akira’s hand. He really wanted to reprimand them because this was clearly very reckless. The moment one of these fisherman dudes looked for the source of that weird noise, they were all fucked, Goro especially. But on the other hand, every time Akira did this it felt like he was experiencing that bliss for the first time all over again.

Ryuji saved him from the pound by pointing out another dark shape moving beneath the surface of the lake, which was enough for Akira to cease his doting and cast his line into the water. But while they battled for the attention of that fish, Goro spotted another one swimming just in front of his feet. The foul stench wafted into his nose, registering as a gourmet meal despite Goro’s knowledge that it was nothing of the sort. His stomach emitted a pained gurgling sound and he remembered that he didn’t eat anything for breakfast this morning. Which was normal for him, but apparently all he wanted to do now was eat, sleep, and rub himself against Akira’s face to mark him with hormones or some weird shit a human should not be doing. There was also the issue that he’d rather not have Sojiro enter his cafe to find Goro ass up on the floor with his face buried in a bowl, scarfing down whatever weird pellets Akira fed Morgana with. His brain hurt trying to unpack all the levels of weird and horrifying packed into that thought.

This dumbass fish didn’t run away even as the hungry catboy continued to stare at it with near single-minded focus and intensity. Goro slid off of his box and assumed a crouching position right on the edge of the concrete walkway. Akira noticed him moving and looked a bit worried. “Goro? Is everything alright?”

 _Yes, Akira, everything is just swell. It’s all going swimmingly, one might say. Growing cat ears and a tail has not inconvenienced me in the slightest. Totally not horribly embarrassing!_ “I’m just watching the water, that’s all. Everything is under control.” 

Everything was not under control. Mere moments after Akira deemed his concern unnecessary, Goro leaned forward and dunked his head into the water to grab the fish.

At least, that was his intention. He failed to account for how slippery the ground beneath his feet was. The fish was wiggling in his fangs, but he slipped and his whole body fell in with a big splash. And holy shit that was cold. He’d wind up like the Destinyland guy, preserved in his freakish catboy state at the bottom of the sea until his frozen form was uncovered years later to be marvelled at by the masses. He snorted underwater, spewing out fat bubbles that rose to the surface. Thank god no one heard that, he must’ve sounded like a fucking warthog. But it’d be kinda funny if he single handedly convinced people a hundred years from now that civilization in the past was composed of catboys. Shido would be dead by then. But so would Akira.

From above he heard muffled exclamations of panic. The tightening of the collar around his neck indicated that someone was pulling him out, he clamped his jaw shut as he rose to the surface and tried not to gag or drop his catch. Once his head was out, two pairs of arms hooked underneath him and hauled him to shore. A bit of water spilled out of the round bell attached to his collar. He spit the fish out into their empty bucket and coughed out a bunch of gross lake water. “I-I-I c-caught-t-t-t one,” he announced with chattering teeth.

“Good job,” Akira said with an uneasy laugh, but he rewarded Goro anyway by petting his hair, delicate fingers brushing past the backs of his ears.

Hair. Ears. Hair. Hat. 

Fuck.

The hat previously hiding Goro’s cat ears was floating in the lake. Goro panicked and threw his damp coat over his head, which did absolutely nothing to stop his shivering. Neither did it stop the pathetic little sad mewling. Akira poked his head into Goro’s freezing cold wet coat tent and cupped his face with his warm hands. “Ryuji’s getting a net to go save your hat. Don’t worry, I think most of these guys are too drunk and old to notice what happened anyway.”

Goro sighed and grabbed his tail. He made a face. It looked like a clump of gross roommate hair collecting in the shower drain. He tried to wring it out. “I-I lied-d-d,” Goro admitted. “About-t-t-t having cont-t-tr-trol. It’s-s-s just-st-t really embarras-si-sing.”

“If it makes you feel any better, you automatically win for best catch of the day,” Akira offered. “What do you say we go home and warm you up before you get hypothermia?” Goro nodded. Akira kissed his icy purple lips and exited his damp bubble.

He heard a distinctly squishy sound, then Ryuji’s hand appeared with his hat in tow. Goro’s cat ears immediately disliked being caught in the wet wool once more, but he ignored them and put his coat back on normally. His clothes were only making him colder now instead of keeping him warm. Being an actual cat with a full body of fur would be really fucking convenient right now. But also the scariest shit that could possibly happen to him. The whole rat thing while he moved alone in Shido’s palace was enough anatomical fuckery for one lifetime.

“Yo, Akechi.” Goro looked up at Ryuji. “That was like. Kind of really weird, but I’m sure you know that but like...also sort of effin’ awesome? None of us could catch shit but you just _went_ for it, ya know?”

Goro slowly blinked at him with a blank expression. “I’m nyot sure how I’m supposed t-t-to respond to that.”

Ryuji scoffed, “Pfff well yeah, there’s not a “correct” way to respond or whatever, ‘specially with all this weird cat shit. I just…” he sighed, “I don’t even know what I’m trying to say anymore.”

“Me neither.”

“Huh. Might be the first time we agree on something,” Ryuji mused with uncharacteristic wisdom. “Besides Akira being pretty great and all I mean, though you’ve got a weird way of showing it.”

If this were Akira he was talking to, Goro _might_ spew way too much information about his seething jealousy for those who can relate to others on a normal level. How he’s never had something this good and he’s scared that if he shows how much he loves it, it’ll only be taken away from him. “I’m not the best with people.” 

“Who is?” Ryuji asked, and no, Goro was _not_ going to have some kind of deep psychological revelation while soaking wet and having a conversation with Sakamoto “I’m A Phantom Thief” Ryuji of all people. He simply refused.

As the three of them reached the gate and were about to part ways, Sakamoto Ryuji proved himself capable of shocking Goro into silence once more. “Akechi...cats like meat right? Eating alone is kinda weird soooooowanna join me for steak sometime?”

Goro felt really dumb about his first instinct being to look at Akira for approval. Which of course Akira gave him, he looked like he was watching a pet correctly perform a trick he’d been trying to teach it for awhile. Socializing had to be the hardest one out there. “Um. Sure.” His voice sounded so shaky. Pathetic.

“Sick, I’ll text you. See you gays later.” Ryuji nudged Akira’s shoulder before walking off while Goro gawked at his retreating back.

Once he was out of (human) ear shot, Goro asked, “Did I mishear that? I thought my hearing was supposed to be _better_.”

Akira chuckled, “No. You didn’t. Good to know he’s being a bro and supporting our decision, though.”

“I still don't understand your decision in the slightest. Your judgement is quite poor for the leader of a vigilante group.”

There was buzzing from Akira’s pocket. He took out his phone and smiled. “Yours is even worse. I can’t believe you let Yusuke draw you.”

“ _Wait!_ ” Goro tried to grab Akira’s phone but the thief was too slippery for him. “ _Did he send you pictures?!_ ” Goro screeched. 

“No, he did that yesterday. Now he’s asking us to come over to the Kosei dorms so he can” Akira cleared his throat and did a horrendous Yusuke impression, “ _capture your essence with all of his tools at his disposal_. This is good for us too, Yusuke’s place is closer than Leblanc.”

If Akira already had sketches from Yusuke permanently etched into the coding of his phone and likely also in Futaba’s possession, then it was too late. Resistance was futile. And Goro was pretty sure his tail was frozen solid, morphing into a horrendous spiked crystal the longer that stood out here.

“Fine. But if any art people get their hands on my catboy nudes, I am hunting you all for sport.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ryuji is such a joy, and I'm sooo looking forward to writing Yusuke in all his chaotic glory
> 
> Kudos, comment, follow me on [my Twitter](https://twitter.com/3muske_tears?lang=en), you know the deal


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Goro spends the afternoon as Yusuke's muse and gets a bit more out of it than he expected.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back to more nonsense! This felt a little different to me while I was writing it, but maybe that's just because Ryuji and Yusuke are so different as characters. Regardless, enjoy!

“Shift the position of your body ever so slightly to the left.”

…

“Your _other_ left. My left.”

…

“Splendid. Now modify the angle of your head to follow the path I’m demonstrating with my hands.”

…

“Shift that arm and keep your fingers closed.”

...

…

“No, that’s not quite it. Hmm.”

“Kitagawa-kun,” Goro said, ignoring the immediate flare of distress the artist showed when he began to move his mouth, “what do you hope to capture by micromanaging me as I sit here in my wet clothes freezing my ass off.”

Upon their arrival at the Kosei dorms, Goro had instantly found himself swept into the strangest modeling session of his life. He had some prior modeling experience from magazine photoshoots, but those were rather mundane. All he had to do was put his hand up to his chin and wink, then the photographer would rave about what a natural he was and how this issue would simply fly off the shelves with his charming face on the cover. One time the photographer had been really weird and directed him to “make a face that all the girls can imagine themselves kissing.” Goro almost let his sweet facade drop when he said, “I beg your pardon?” The photographer went on to say how girls like to kiss the pictures in the magazines so they can pretend it's actually the celebrity of their dreams. Goro laughed it off and said he hoped he didn’t taste like paper and ink.

With this session, the painter likely was not going for the most kissable faces, but Goro feared his eccentricity may lead to something more treacherous. A whole other animal, so to speak. The egregious pun made Goro want to catapult himself down the stairs to see if he'd land on his feet.

 _That_ aspect was the element of this sketching session that made his blood curdle like the milk he apparently now worshipped the way his good-for-nothing-but- _more_ -emotional-trauma father did with alcohol. Yusuke didn't want Goro because of his multifaceted nature or conventional attractiveness— though the artist would need to correct his under-eye circles since his concealer washed away in the lake— he wanted him for the goddamn tail and cat ears. Fuck his life.

“I wish to encapsulate feline elegance on a canvas,” Yusuke replied, a culprit of regurgitating discarded sonnets of old even more than Goro was. Feline elegance seemed such a contrived hoax at this point, the evidence of its blasphemy clinging to Goro's limbs and possibly his tongue— albeit in another, grosser form. Elegance his ass, this was just demeaning.

“You would have had a more accurate representation with Morgana than with me,” Goro argued. If only this ailment had struck Kasumi or Haru. Not that he would wish it on anyone— save possibly Akira simply out of the pettiness that came with a good rivalry, even when it became a romance. Vengeance for the endless teasing he’d endured. But for the sake of Yusuke’s artistic endeavors, one of those two girls would be the ideal. Both handled both their movements and their struggles with grace, while Goro tended to make a mess, dissociate through his day, and throw a horrid tantrum in the bowels of Shido's palace, exposing his pathetic neediness and crippling insecurity in the process. 

“Much to his dismay, Morgana would not be an acceptable example of human anatomy,” Yusuke countered easily. The sound of Akira snickering made Goro’s ears swivel— followed by the rest of his head— to where his boyfriend was leaning against the wall sporting an easy smile. That had to be the only thing keeping him in his place.

“Akechi.” Yusuke’s sharp made Goro startle, he was pretty sure he wasn’t so jumpy before The Incident. He’d started referring to it as such in his head because turning-into-a-half-human-half-cat-hybrid was just too long for someone losing their grasp of human speech to think every time he wanted to refer to it in his mind. The Incident implied that this was a one-time thing, a blip in time with no lasting effects on anything. An embarrassing story just like any other to be shared among a group of friends over a meal. Or so he’d heard.

Thanks to the stupid fucking drawn-out Incident, instead of quietly apologizing when he returned his gaze and pose to where Yusuke wanted them, he meowed. If only the heat he felt rising in his cheeks would sink to warm up the rest of him too.

Goro maintained his position, feeling his wet bangs falling into his eyes. He genuinely could not comprehend what about him right now could possibly make Yusuke want to create a whole composition in his likeness. His wet hair probably looked terribly greasy in the light, and when it dried it would just be a frizzy mess. It started out that way in the morning, really, but he wouldn’t have wanted to be painted then either. Could this not wait until he had a chance to stop and grab all his products from his own place? Grimly, he recognized that he probably couldn’t go by himself, he’d need an escort to make sure he didn’t do anything strange and get himself in trouble.

The irony was palpable. Just as he finally wrenched his way out of Shido’s control and found freedom for the first time, the world responsible for the power that dragged him into that murderous mess decided to put the “cat” in “catastrophe”, pulling the rug out from underneath him just as he was learning to stand on his own two feet. Now it left him on the floor with nothing left to do but scratch the carpet until that horrible bitch named Fate decided she was finally bored of toying with him. The puppet strings were merely replaced with one tight leash.

Yusuke set down his pencil and slumped in his seat, his elbow resting on his knee and his chin propped up by his hand. The eye of an artist rivaled the perception of a detective’s, trained to discern a genuine work from a mere replica. Being observed by it gave Goro the same anxiety that security scanners did. He never had anything on him— the gun usually stayed in a safe in his closet— but the thought that he might have forgotten to remove a belt or a watch made his skin itch. Being patted down and handled by strange men with authority would make the itch break into hives. God, he knew being stared at was a part of the whole modeling shtick, but with how the past few days had been going it absolutely made him think there was something awful going on with his face unbeknownst to him.

“Am I the problem?” Goro asked. As of late, the answer seemed to often be a resounding “yes”. 

“Akira,” Yusuke said. Goro’s brain had to do several somersaults for him to realize that he wasn’t saying Akira was the problem, but rather that he was simply addressing Akira. He never confirmed or denied if Goro was the problem though. “Go over there and move Akechi as I instruct you to.” Yusuke’s face seemed disapproving, yet filled Goro with none of the usual doom he felt when someone was very much disappointed in him. “He moves a lot.”

“Might be what we cat owners call a case of the zoomies,” Akira suggested cheerfully, making his way over to Goro and standing over him. “I think I’ve gotten lucky so far, no waking up at two in the morning to find him running around.” He waggled his fingers. “Hey, honey.”

“I’m going to scratch that smug look off of your face if you don’t cut it out,” Goro warned. That sly half-smirk was making him _feel things_ and given the recent talk of heat and whatever the last thing he wanted to do was feel things, at the very least until the two of them were not in the company of someone keen on capturing intense detail. Having his goddamn boner immortalized in precise watercolors might have been worse than the whole half-animal shtick.

Goro didn’t listen to the directions Yusuke gave, he just let himself be reconfigured to suit the agenda of art. Akira’s hands moved his arms, rotated his shoulders, and pushed his legs slightly to the left. Besides the general absurdity of being what he could only think to describe as “tenderly manhandled”, the only weird part was when Yusuke spent two whole minutes giving Akira incredibly particular directions on where to drape his tail. Curiosity killed the cat (Goro was almost _certain_ his train of thought had passed by that joke at least once already), so Goro turned his head to see what Yusuke meant by “have the lower third hanging over the edge by the fifth plank in the table.”

“Akira, return his face to its prior angle,” Yusuke ordered. Akira’s hands were warm over his cheeks, that irksome smirk swapped out for a sweet smile. Goro stared into his eyes, seeing how the light hit the lenses of his fake glasses. Taking them off was tempting, but Goro stayed frozen in place for the sake of art or whatever. 

Abruptly, as Akira was moving his hands away, Yusuke yelled, “Cease your adjustments right there! This position...the composition and the tangible fondness! With the two of you, I shall portray not only elegance but tenderness as well. Continue to stare into each other’s eyes.” 

Well, this was simply fantastic. Not only was he stuck here in place until the execution of the visual arts rescued him from this metaphorical tree he’d climbed up, but he now had nothing to do but mull over his feelings for the boy whose eyes he was staring into. The hand that was furthest from Yusuke’s view began to rub circles into his cheek and run fingers through his damp hair, straying as far as to brush by his cat ears, which twitched at the contact. Goro’s eyes were not given much chance to wander, for every time his gaze began to unfocus the mere sensation of Akira’s eyes memorizing every last detail of his red irises.

Simply to pass the time, Goro began to do the same. Flecks of eyeliner that makeup remover had missed were visible in his eyelashes thanks to their proximity. It must’ve been from their Metaverse visit yesterday, Goro knew that show-off shithead put on eyeliner just for the dramatics and it always made Goro’s heart turn itself inside out. A lot of things Akira did seemed to warrant a similar reaction, even before Goro’s hormones were being carelessly fiddled with.

The sound of raindrops falling on the pavement began to accompany the swooshing of Yusuke’s brush gliding across his canvas. Goro couldn’t help but think it was for the best that they’d left Ichigaya Lake when they did, otherwise he wouldn’t have been the only one shivering and soaked. He wasn’t sure how the part of him that was a cat would deal with water constantly falling from the sky either. It would probably make him do something foolish, going full-on quadrupedal in a panicked search for cover.

He couldn’t tell if the sheer volume of the rain could be credited to thin walls or big ears. Likely a combination of the two; if Goro dragged his hand down a wall with just a bit too much force, he’d find his fingers fully exposed to the elements and the work of the struggling heater being totally counteracted. The noises around him felt closer than they really were, Yusuke’s brush within arm’s reach and the rainfall surpassing the suppression of the window to enter the room. It was a bit of a nuisance, but it was made worthwhile by the soft sound of Akira’s breathing resounding in his skull. 

The static noise was interrupted by a roaring clap of thunder, sending a bolt of lightning straight down Goro’s spine. Every last hair on him rose from what had to be static electricity, certainly not a fear that became a paralysis. The infliction of two status ailments simultaneously had to be unheard of. And it was dreadful. Goro found himself unable to move and when he did something at all the motions were not his own, at least not how he’d react normally.

Normally he liked sleeping in a storm. Rest did not come to him easily, even as near-chronic exhaustion weighed heavily on his shoulders. Slumber was plagued with gruesome visions, phantoms of all his poor decisions chaining him to the ground and making him watch the regrets play out in warped, graphic detail. Laughing as his screams made no noise and the chains on his arms pulled him back just as the possibility to fix things was within his reach. Goro often woke up drenched in his own sweat and yet frozen solid except for the unceasing trembling. Eventually, he’d simply pass out from the mental duress, only to awaken once more to start his dreary day not much later. 

The downpour drowned his demons, immersing their ugly heads in the water while Goro remained safe and dry, watching them writhe outside the window. Their jeers were only clusters of bubbles rising to the surface, replaced with the gentle pitter-patter of the rain and the protective rumbling in the clouds above. Goro tucked himself in without a hitch on these nights; if he dreamed at all it was a vision of serenity, the blissful illusion of sin washing away. Maybe Akira was there sometimes, who knew. When he woke, Goro could only recall the rare lack of acid biting at his throat.

For something that once brought him security to now bring about an onslaught of anxiety was perfectly on par with the rest of his life at this point. It was a series of unfortunate circumstances often leading to events so incredibly unfortunate that the word “unfortunate” no longer seemed miserable enough. Perhaps he would be overreacting to say this instance was one of such events— especially held up next to the absolute winners that were his mother’s death and that time he thought he successfully fucking murdered the only person who ever gave a damn about him— but in all fairness to him, the number of pleasant things he had was so short that taking one away felt very much like a fatal blow.

The second round of thunder broke his paralysis. Seeing as he was permanently prone to misery, fear took its place. Despite his pride— or whatever degraded version of it remained these days— Goro would admit to having been afraid before. He’d be loath to spill on the matters of his dizzying first trip alone in the Metaverse at fourteen or the bouts of raw panic that occurred immediately before and after every phone call with Shido, but they’d seen him scared for sure. Status ailments were funny in that the emotions brought about were brutally organic and raw, yet the emotional core that caused these feelings was nowhere to be found. Rationally, Goro knew he wasn’t scared of thunderstorms and he had no reason to be acting so irksomely pathetic. Even he— who too often let his hatred stay bottled up until someone shook him a bit and his cap popped off— could sometimes deconstruct his anger enough to say _‘you’re scaring Yoshizawa, maybe calm your flat ass tits, you crazy bitch.’_

(Goro also found that internally referring to himself as a “crazy bitch” was a complete coin toss as to whether his goblin brain would eat that shit up and he would just act crazier or if he’d feel a bit self-conscious about getting so carried away.)

Fear— primitive, senseless, and without a real root he could yank out of the ground— took over. Akira’s hands were petting his hair as soon as the first melancholy whimper escaped. Yusuke got up to close the curtains, which Akira took as his cue to break their pose altogether and pull Goro against his chest.

“Hey, it’s alright. You’re okay,” Akira murmured into his hair. Goro’s impulse was to cover his ears, but given that they were now bigger than his hands he doubted that would do him any good. Judging from the sensation of Akira’s hands rubbing against the backs, it seemed like they were flattened against his head anyway. 

Out of the corner of his eye, Goro saw Yusuke move his stool closer to them and take a seat. “Unfortunately, I have no means of better insulating this room to dull the noises,” Yusuke said. He was right, not even carpeting these walls— a horrible choice aesthetic wise— would significantly counteract how paper-thin they were. It was a wonder no other students living in the dorms had come over to ask about the random cat noises yet. Or perhaps they assumed Yusuke was weird enough to be the one making those sounds for the sake of art or whatever. Goro knew he was in no position to be calling other people weird at the moment though. 

The sky boomed again and on primitive instinct, Goro lept out of Akira’s arms to go hide under something. He made a grave miscalculation, however, since Yusuke’s bed was just a futon on the floor and there was nothing for him to hide under save maybe the easel. And he was not cat-sized enough to fit under it. The strange limbo that this incomplete transformation left him in was getting more and more annoying as the bizarre incidents piled up. Like a cherry on top that he absolutely did not ask for, Goro’s groan of infinite frustration came out of his mouth as a very long “MRRRREEEEEEEOOOOOW!”

Akira dragged Goro’s head and shoulders out from under the easel and resumed his previous embrace, this time wrapping his legs around Goro to keep him from trying to escape again. Yusuke sat down on the floor nearby, idly tracing the grooves in the floorboards with his finger as he contemplated who knows what. When he found his words, he looked up. “Akechi, upon your initial infliction a few days ago, I was instantly struck by the creative possibility stored within your changed appearance. It was like an abstract yet actualized version of this chronically displeased cat Futaba kept showing me pictures of one time. Your Metaverse attire also held the potential for a fascinating study on contrasting shapes, thus why I requested to sketch you then while I had the chance.” His slightly bitter chuckle got Goro to turn his face away from Akira’s warm chest. “Admittedly, I wished that I had been the one who was struck so I could truly understand from experience what I was trying to convey with my work. I’m sure you would have preferred that someone else had been the one affected.”

Goro still felt like a robot with a limited range of motion in his joints and only a few preset voiced lines to cycle through— all of which were expressed through meows— so he just nodded with enough enthusiasm to outright snap his own neck. Yusuke continued, impressing Goro by putting his own rambles about jazz, philosophers, and his harrowing childhood to shame in terms of lengthiness. “Perhaps I should have been more thoughtful and seen that your unwillingly increased vulnerability was a source of stress rather than immediately considering how I could use it for my own artistic gain.”

To a known liar, Yusuke’s blunt honesty was a breath of fresh ocean breeze filling lungs that emitted and inhaled pollution in equal parts on the daily. Simultaneously, it was tornado violently colliding with Goro’s hall of deception. He felt called out. He wasn’t allowed to be mushy and other people certainly weren’t allowed to notice or comment on it if he was. The line between feeling seen and exposed never stayed sharp and crisp around these damned teenagers, one of them always had to smudge the ink.

Akira was the prime culprit of course. Always a true-to-form delinquent, taking Goro’s hand and dragging him off the rigid path he set for himself to take a detour in the woods, maybe get whacked in the face with a few tree branches and a confession of romantic affection. The fact that _that_ had come about while Goro was like this had to be the strangest part. Despite his general paranoia, Goro had quickly discarded the self-deprecating and mind-boggling theory Akira’s love of cats had made this Goro attractive to him and he had asked Goro out under the assumption that he was just going to be like this from now on. Akira had been among the people telling him to calm down and wait for it to go away the next morning, so there was little chance of there being truth behind that assumption. But that didn’t mean there was no correlation.

Perhaps Akira— in all his trademark foolishness— had harbored such feelings for months and Goro was an idiot who failed to be receptive to them, so caught up in his plans and maintaining the upper hand to consider that maybe his dear rival’s stomach did somersaults at the sight of a new notification the same way his did. Oh, to let someone rub their hands through his hair and tell him he was safe. What a remarkable development all things considered. All of the embarrassments caused by this Incident had led to something he wouldn’t have been able to bring himself to accept normally.

“If I truly am useful to you this way, then okay. Draw me. Make a goddamn statue for all I care,” Goro said. When thunder rolled around again, he didn’t startle so much because he was too busy grappling with the significance of feeling significantly lighter when Yusuke’s face brightened like the sun piercing through dark clouds.

The ceiling above Akira’s bed had little plastic stars stuck to it. Despite having slept here a few nights now, Goro had never been awake enough to notice them before. As he lied on his back— Akira’s spare pillows elevating it so as to not smoosh his tail— he counted them. There were thirty total in two different sizes, staggered as to not create rigid rows or a clear pattern.

Akira flopped down next to him and hauled Goro’s body on top of himself. “I’m not a blanket, Akira,” Goro grumbled. He’d just been trying to find shapes in the arrangement of plastic stars and now he couldn’t see them anymore.

“Could’ve fooled me with how soft you are,” Akira replied, running a hand down from Goro’s hair to his borrowed fleece pullover to his tail. Once he reached the tail he started scratching a bit and Goro went limp, purring softly. That never failed to feel absolutely wonderful every time. 

Goro felt Akira shifting under him and was soon met with a phone screen being directed towards his face. It was Akira’s chatlog with Yusuke, the messages from earlier requesting that the two of them come to his dorm promptly were cut off at the top. At the bottom were two new attachments. It took a few tries to open the images with his stupid long claw nails, but angling his finger did the trick. 

He’d expected Yusuke’s piece to be one drawn in full clarity, like a photograph with more texture. The image in front of him was one made up of soft shapes on a canvas, huddled together to form two bodies in a comforting embrace. A clear distinction was made through precise shading of what was him and what was Akira, but they still looked like one unified form. Mutually content in each other’s space.

“He’s good,” Goro said. Akira hummed in agreement and played with his hair some more. Goro swiped up and saw the caption Yusuke sent along with the pictures.

 **Yusuke:** My instructor walked in and said he liked it, so I submitted it to him. Akechi will be relieved to know he thought my intention was to convey that people love their pets just as they do their human friends. Though I suspect your relationship with Akechi may have moved beyond that at this point. Congratulations, by the way. I will happily assist with the aesthetic components of a marital ceremony, including tailoring a suit to accommodate a cat tail if need be.

Every sentence of that text was a new form of whiplash, yet Goro found himself rereading it over and over again. He wasn’t the problem. He’d been helpful. He couldn’t help preening under the fact. And now he was being promised a wedding. So despite feeling tired, cold, confused, and embarrassed for most of the day, Goro ended it with a secretive little smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos and comments are the crown jewels of my inbox (especially among all these horrific messages of plans about starting school amidst the pandemic...YUCK)
> 
> Follow me on twitter [right here](https://twitter.com/3muske_tears?lang=en) for a lot of me gushing about Goro Akechi and retweeting every catboy art of him I see
> 
> Edit: Due to a lack of motivation, I've decided there will not be further updates. This was only ever intended to be a silly oneshot anyways. I don't want to spend my time producing mediocre work, and I'm sure you don't want to read mediocre work. If you were waiting for an update, my apologies. I just don't want to put out anything that I'm not proud of. If you enjoyed this, I hope you'll consider checking out my other works, minus the cat ears I tend to write similarly fluffy and humorous works. Thanks for reading!


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